


They Need a Monster

by magicalxn



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Romance, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gets worse before it gets better, Hurt/Comfort, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Pacifist Route, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spoilers, reader takes on the role of frisk and is of college age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalxn/pseuds/magicalxn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite everything, it was still just you doing your best to help the ones you cared about. In the end, you and your monster friends finally made it up to the surface. They're ready to start their new lives. Everyone is happy.</p><p>Well, almost everyone.</p><p>[semi-hiatus (see chapter 8 author's note)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk i was kinda thinking about how at the end of the pacifist route, all your friends show up to help you, but not mettaton, even though he was a boss fight! (granted alphys kinda takes his place but still) so i wanted to write some sad stuff that will eventually become happy!  
> reader is not frisk, but they take on the role of frisk, meaning they freed everyone from the underground. they're also an adult.  
> it should be noted that in this story at the end of the pacifist route you opted to stay with toriel!

You were the type of person that liked to live without regret. You strived to make the right choice the first time around – or at least, what you thought was the right choice – and focused on preparing for the future rather than dwell on what you could’ve done in the past. You liked to think this was a good quality about you, something you always did, and so far you were pretty sure you’d done exactly that in life.

Naturally, you didn’t regret falling down into the underground. How could you even find a negative thing about it, with all the good that had come with it? Liberating an entire race from their human oppression and shattering the barrier so that they could again live above the surface…it was something you still couldn’t believe you – you! An insignificant little human in a sea of other just as insignificant humans – had managed to do. However, the friends that surrounded you now were proof enough to what you had done in the past.

You lived with Toriel, a kindly older monster that looked very similar to a goat. She was the first monster you’d encountered in the underground, or at least the first that had treated you kindly. She had taken you under her wing below the surface and after you had completed your quest and gotten back above ground, she was happy to welcome you with open arms again.

When you weren’t attending the local college in the city to finish your education, you were spending time with Toriel or the monsters you now called your best friends. Whether it was an afternoon of tugging Papyrus – an excitable skeleton – around the city to show him various human innovations and customs, lazing around with Sans – also a skeleton, though significantly more relaxed than his brother – or hanging out with Undyne and Alphys – a fish monster and a lizard monster respectively – doing anything from watching anime or bench pressing the local children all to their amusement, you were always having fun.

You didn’t want to imagine what your life would’ve been like without the monsters that filled it now. You could hardly even remember it; you had experienced so much in the course of those few months you’d spent underground, your earlier memories seemed dull in comparison. If you focused, you could vaguely recall spending many awkward years with family members, all of whom had vanished for one reason or another after you had fallen down into the underground and disappeared. Though you felt a bit unkind to think so, you didn’t miss them much; not when your adventure had brought about such a new and exciting life filled with new and exciting people.

Of course, as soon as you’d returned to the surface, there had been numerous broadcasts on televisions and radios hailing your return and asking your family if they would step forward to be with you again. You didn’t really want them to. Something about the idea of going to live with your human family again and leave your new one behind made you a little sick. However, none of them stepped forward to take you in and Toriel had offered to act as your guardian in place, an outcome that you were more than satisfied with.

With monsters and humans inhabiting the same world, things became a little different and a lot more chaotic. The humans were scared out of their wits at first to see giant hairy beasts and skeletons filing towards them eagerly with open arms, but with you acting as the monsters’ ambassador, the human race was slowly growing accustomed to the presence of monsters in their day-to-day lives.

To be honest though, what really mattered to you was how your friends were adjusting, and they were doing wonderfully. Toriel had stared up her own school for human and monster children alike, and whenever you came home after a day of school yourself, she would gush to you about the events of that day. Papyrus and Sans lived in the house next door to yours and both had found jobs, Papyrus as a chef at the school Toriel had opened – his spaghetti had really been coming along lately, and Toriel had found it hard to prepare meals and teach an entire class of children without sacrificing the quality of one or the other – and Sans…well, you didn’t actually know what Sans did, given he was rather cryptic about it. You understood that he helped out a lot at Toriel’s school, whether it be with maintenance of the building or wrangling the children, but he was often doing something else on most days – something that had him out of the house and absent from the school. Sans was innocuous enough, though, so you didn’t pry too much.

You weren’t exactly sure what Undyne was doing either. She had been so excited when she’d told you about the new opportunity, her words had tumbled out in a rush too quickly for you to understand, and you didn’t want to halt her celebration by making her calm down and repeat herself. From what you could vaguely remember, she had some sort of top-secret important job working with the military, which you thought suited her very well. Alphys had also found herself to job, similar to the one she’d had back in the underground. She’d been traveling around, discussing and sharing her scientific findings the humans on the surface, comparing and contrasting them. You had to admit, it seemed like monster science was far more advanced than human science.

Asgore himself didn’t have much of a job, other than acting as a diplomat on behalf of the monsters. He also maintained his status of royalty among them, a title that the government of your town seemed to be willing to acknowledge. Napstablook’s music was currently a hit with humans everywhere, and Mettaton’s TV shows had garnered ratings higher than the ones he’d ever had in the underground. You’d even brought Flowey to the surface – it had been extremely difficult coaxing him into a pot, but eventually he’d gone and now rested on the windowsill of your room most days. You felt terribly for him and what you knew he could no longer experience, so you’d taken him in out of the kindness of your own heart, even though he snapped at you every chance he got.

 

You had just gotten home from another day of school and as soon as you entered your home the smell of something delightful – probably in the oven and almost finished – hit your senses. It briefly made your mouth water, before you managed to return to walking down the hallway and to your room. You always kept the door closed, in case Toriel were to walk by and peer in. She didn’t know you had Flowey with you and you didn’t think she’d be very pleased to find him there. You opened the door and dropped your bag onto the floor and carefully removed your shoes and placed it beside them, before you finally turned to the windowsill, a greeting to the small yellow flower on the tip of your tongue, before you halted in your tracks.

Flowey wasn’t there. It puzzled you, why he wouldn’t be. Had he suddenly grown legs and walked away? Or did he simply wobble around enough until he fell onto the ground, like he’d done two times before? Your eyes searched the carpet below the window; there wasn’t a speck of dirt, so it was unlikely he’d done that…you weren’t even sure why he’d want to move to somewhere else. Sunlight was streaming in through the window, and though he always denied it, you knew he liked to feel its warmth on his petals and leaves; at least, as much as he had the capability to like something.

You gave a quick once-over of your room, and couldn’t find him anywhere. You began to panic a little, but tried to remain calm. Since there was something baking in the oven, it meant that Toriel was home. You definitely had to find Flowey before she did. You immediately turned and headed out of your room, unsure of where exactly to start your search, but determined to find him anyhow. You were stopped, however, by a voice drifting down the hallway, sounding like it was coming from the kitchen.

“(Y/n)! Could you come here for a moment?”

It was Toriel. You scoffed a little in your head; you had to find Flowey and you had to do it fast! You considered telling her that you would be just a moment while you tried to finish your search up as fast as possible, but you figured she just wanted something simple and easy, like for you to do a taste test of whatever it was she had been baking in the oven. You hurriedly headed down the hallway and turned into the kitchen to see that Toriel was in the adjacent dining room, sitting at the table and sipping from a tea cup. Sitting – well, he couldn’t really _sit_ – across from her with a cup of tea of his own was Flowey.

_Oh no_. You gulped, taking a few steps to cross the kitchen and stand in the threshold. You feigned innocence. “Um, yes Toriel? What is it you needed?”

Pointedly, she raised the tea cup to her lips and took a long sip. It was still steaming and it must’ve been freshly made. Your eyes darted to the plate of muffins that was placed in the middle of the table. They were also steaming and the dining room smelled heavenly; it must’ve been those that were in the oven. “I think you know why I’ve called you in here, my child,” Toriel said gently, setting her tea cup down onto the table. Your eyes followed hers, from where Flowey was grinning maliciously over at you. You were in deep trouble. “O-Okay, I know I’m in trouble and all and he’s probably told you everything, but please, here me out for a second here –“

“Oh, you’re not in trouble, (y/n). I just wanted to know what Flowey was doing here. That’s all.” Her tone told a different story than her words; she was using that stern, motherly tone she often used with the children at school; firm to make them realize they had done something wrong, but gentle enough as to not make them cry.

Your eyes flashed over to the flower again. He was still grinning. You wondered momentarily why he hadn’t told her everything, about how you had gone back down into the underground yourself and taken him in and had been keeping him there, hiding him behind Toriel’s back for two months, slipping him food and water whenever you could. “Well…I…” You felt tongue-tied. You couldn’t think of anything to say. “…I thought Flowey might be lonely down there by himself, so I brought him back to live with us…”

It was a lame explanation and it made you groan inwardly, but Toriel only gave a soft _hmm_ , and took another drawn out sip from her drink. “That’s it, then? You just thought he would need a friend so you brought him here?” You nodded vigorously at her, and you could hear the chuckles drifting from the potted plant on the table. “Well then. How long has he been staying with us?”

Several seconds passed. By the time you risked another glance at Flowey, you saw that his expression had become unreadable. Had he told her everything? Was Toriel just testing you? You didn’t want to lie to her, but at the same time, you didn’t want her to know how long you’d been hiding Flowey from her. “Only a couple of weeks,” you lied straight through your teeth and hoped that she wouldn’t call you out on it. She blinked at you for a few moments, before another contemplative _hmm_ left her lips. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Even Flowey stayed silent.

“Alright then,” she said finally. “You knew I wouldn’t take kindly to…someone like him staying in my home, so you kept it from me. I understand.” Her eyes fell upon you again, large and reproachful. “However, I am a little hurt that you wouldn’t just tell me that you’d brought him here. I would’ve let him stay with us, you know. Even if I wouldn’t like it at first.” Her smile was warm, albeit brief. “I just…wish you would have been honest with me, (y/n).”

You felt your cheeks burn with shame and your eyes fell to the ground. You couldn’t look at her. You couldn’t even look at Flowey, who again, had gone strangely silent, even though you knew he was probably eating the talking-to Toriel was giving you right up. You mumbled out a sheepish apology.

You were startled to hear laughter, though this time it came from Toriel. Immediately your eyes darted to her to find her smiling brightly at you, her stern demeanor all but gone. “Oh dear! It isn’t the end of the world, you know! I forgive you, (y/n)!” She reached out a hand to beckon you further into the kitchen and you took a few steps in. Once you were close enough, she gently wrapped her arms around you in a tenderly embrace and patted your back. You did the same, shutting your eyes for a few moments and breathing in her familiar, homey smell. You never got tired of Toriel’s hugs; the gentle, firm softness, her warmth, the way her arms wrapped around you felt exactly like home.

“Just next time, promise to me honest with me, alright? You have nothing to fear from me, my child. Not ever again,” she pulled away to lock eyes with you and her smile was soft. You felt like hugging her more, but dropped your arms and merely nodded in response. You guessed that from now on, Flowey would be allowed to stay with you, which meant he had a lot more freedom around the house. The thought of him lounging in the afternoon sunlight in the living room or joining the two of you – and more often than not, other company as well – for dinner amused you.

“So, if we’re done with all of this mushy stuff, can you pour me some more tea, lady?”

The two of you turned to the flower that was watching you with a bored look in his eyes, his mouth twisted into what resembled a pout. You and Toriel couldn’t help but share a quick laugh at Flowey’s expense to which he responded with flustered spluttering, telling you to ‘shut up or else!’ Toriel reached across the table to grab his tea cup, and with a smothered chuckle, she told him, “I suppose since you asked this time – albeit not very nicely.” Her tone was chastising, but she poured a bit of the warm tea into the soil in his pot anyhow.

“And gimme another muffin! I’ve been holed up in (y/n)’s disgusting pit of a room for so long feeding off of sunlight and scraps, I’m starving!” The flower emphasized this by patting his skinny green stem with equally skinny green leaves. You frowned at that; you would hardly call your room disgusting nor would you call what you’d been feeding Flowey scraps, considering they were bits of your own meals. Toriel simply sighed, reaching forward to pluck a freshly-baked muffin from the top of the pile and break a piece off of one, setting it in the soil in the flower’s pot so he could eat it himself.

“Hey, Toriel?” You asked, a sudden question burning at the back of your mind. “…how did you find Flowey anyways? Did he leave my room?” Your eyes darted over to where he had scooped up the muffin piece with his leaves and was taking small bites. His eyes met yours but he gave away nothing, his glance uninterested as it flashed back to the muffin he was nibbling on.

Toriel blinked, a little taken aback by your sudden question, before a pink blush began to spread across her cheeks. “Oh, um,” she broke off into a quiet chuckle, a sheepish smile spreading over her face. She turned to you with a shrug. You didn’t think you’d ever seen her this bashful before. “Well, (y/n)…I was worried about you. Y-You know, with school and all…I wanted to make sure you were still taking care of yourself! So I thought I would gather up some of your dirty clothes and wash them for you…I found Flowey on the windowsill asleep.”

“Hey! I wasn’t asleep! I was closing my eyes for a few moments!” Flowey huffed indignantly, finally returning his attention to the two of you as he dropped his muffin piece back into the soil. Both you and Toriel shared another round of laughter as he grumbled. She apologized for heading into your room without your permission and you forgave her, thanking her for her concern and kindness. She offered you a muffin and you took one, but told her you had homework that needed to be started. She nodded in understanding, and just as you grabbed Flowey’s pot to take him back to your room, she spoke up.

“Actually, (y/n), there was something I wanted to tell you. Alphys and Mettaton are going to meet you in the morning and head to school with you. Your science professor wanted her to come speak to your class about her inventions, specifically Mettaton. I told her you wouldn’t mind it. It’s alright with you, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You affirmed, idly tapping your fingers on the orange ceramic pot in your hands. You thought it might be a little strange; your college was almost all humans with the few monster student scattered here and there, and you couldn’t recall seeing any monsters in your science class in particular. Your teacher hadn’t mentioned anything earlier that day, which meant none of your classmates knew either. They were sure going to get a kick out of it. Part of you hoped that neither of them embarrassed you, but the other half was so excited to spend a normally boring day of school with friends that it didn’t matter much.

You and Toriel said your goodbyes, with her reminding you that she’d have dinner for the two of you (she said this with a kind smile at Flowey, which he only glowered at while pointedly continuing to eat the muffin) ready within the hour, and you headed back to your room. You placed Flowey back in his place on your windowsill, ignoring his angry rant about how the sun had already gone down and its warmth was gone as you pulled over your backpack to start on the day’s homework.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting, if nothing else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys and Mettaton are coming with you to college! Are monsters like them enough to impress your human classmates?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK A LONG TIME TO FINISH BUT HERE IT IS...also at least mettaton is in this chapter now  
> i have a vague idea of where i wanna go with this, but we will see where it ends up!

It was the next morning and you were currently standing outside your house, shivering a little in the chilly morning air, though the cold wasn’t enough to drive you inside. You had woken up that morning and gotten ready as quickly as you could, only opting for a plate of toast for breakfast – you noted that Toriel had also made a second plate of toast so Flowey could have his own; he might’ve huffed indignantly when you brought it in, but as you were putting on your shoes, you heard him begin to munch on it – to make sure you wouldn’t miss Alphys and Mettaton. You had no idea when exactly they were going to show up on your doorstep, so you wanted to be ready whenever. It was maybe five minutes of waiting outside before you heard a voice calling you.

“(Y/n)! Hey!” You turned to see Alphys hurrying over the hill to get to your home, huffing and puffing. She must’ve been running to try and get there quicker. You hurried to meet her halfway. Her face was a little red, probably both from running and from the morning chill. “H-Hey! Sorry we’re a little late…have you been waiting long?”

“You’re not late! I didn’t even know what time you were supposed to be coming…and I’ve only been waiting outside for about five minutes or so.” You told her with a smile. She seemed to relax more, breaking off into a smile of her own. You glanced past her a bit; Mettaton was supposed to be with her, but you didn’t see him trailing behind her…it was odd, especially considering he was one who always liked to lead the way. “Uh, Alphys? Where’s Mettaton?”

The lizard monster’s expression turned confused and she whirled around to look back. She scanned the landscape for a few moments as if looking for the robot, but there was nothing. At this early hour, it was only a barren neighborhood street lined with houses, most with their lights still off. “Uh…he was right behind me…I swear, he was following me the whole time!” The two of you glanced around, searching for the glint of polished metal, but to no avail. Alphys scratched her head and again told you that she was certain he had been right behind her the entire time…

“I’m right over here, darlings!” Mettaton shouted as he came over the hill behind her. Strangely, he was in his original form, with a rectangular body and a wheel. That puzzled you a bit, considering how fond he had grown of his EX form ever since he had debuted it in the underground. You shot a questioning glance at Alphys, but she seemed too preoccupied with the fact that her missing robot had just been found.

“Mettaton! There you are! Where did you go? I-I thought you were right behind me!”

“Why, I had to get this, of course!” He whipped out a hat from seemingly nowhere – though you thought it was probably from some sort of compartment he could’ve had on his side or back – and placed the hat on his head. On the front was the logo for your college. You had to suppress a snort; he looked kind of ridiculous, a rectangle with a hat balancing precariously on the top. Even though he didn’t exactly have a face to express his emotions, you could tell the robot was excited nonetheless.

“W-What? Where did you even get that?!”

“I went to (y/n)’s school and bought one from the school store! Cute, isn’t it?” He attempted to do a pose, but found himself at a loss without his more humanoid body, so it was more of a dramatic gesture with his arms.

You and Alphys shared a glance. Her face conveyed exactly what you were thinking: exasperated and a little annoyed, but trying hard not to laugh. You watched as she turned back to the robot, heaving a sigh. “Mettaton…you went all the way to (y/n)’s school to buy that, even though we’re going back there right now?”

Mettaton waved her off absently, whirling around and wrapping his arms around the both of you, beginning to wheel you in the direction of your school. “It’s not like it was a long trip, darling! I got back here in time, after all! Now, let’s get going. We don’t want dear (y/n) to be late.” The two of you didn’t even have to share a glance to confirm that you were feeling the same thing. You decided to drop the topic and instead let Mettaton excitedly lead the way.

The local college was only about ten minutes from your house, so you walked to your classes most mornings. You frequently walked home in the afternoons as well after you were done for the day, though sometimes Papyrus would surprise you by parking his car – as soon as he’d got it, he’d been so enthusiastic that he’d insisted driving you and all of your other friends _everywhere_ – outside the front doors of your school and giving you a ride home. It only took the three of you about fifteen minutes to complete the walk, and once there you quickly shuffled into the main building, grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted you.

“So when are we going to (y/n)’s class?” Mettaton asked excitedly; you knew he couldn’t wait to show himself off to the teacher and your classmates. A question you thought about asking earlier bubbled to the surface, so you quickly answered him.

“My science course isn’t until ten, but why are you…in that form? Y’know, instead of your EX form…? I thought you liked that one better…” You stared at the rectangular robot up and down as he beeped and whirred as if the small noises of machines processing indicated that he was thinking. You couldn’t imagine why he’d prefer his first form; after all, he’d been using his EX form so often on his shows and around town, Alphys had to upgrade its battery life specifically because he used it so often.

“Well darling, the brilliant Dr. Alphys had an absolutely marvelous idea! She thought our presentation would be more striking if I were to show up in this form, and then have a volunteer flip my switch during the performance! Those little friends of yours wouldn’t be expecting a gorgeous body to pop out of a rectangle!” As he said this, he had wrapped an arm around Alphys and pulled her in close. Her grin was sheepish and you saw beads of sweat form on her forehead as she stuttered out something about how the whole thing with impressing your classmates had been more of a collaborative effort, rather than her idea alone.

“Okay…I guess that’s a good idea…but who are you going to get to flip your switch? My professor?”

Mettaton laughed his mechanical laughter. “Of course not! I was thinking that you could do it, gorgeous!” You felt your mouth drop open as soon as the words had left him, and you quickly closed it so you wouldn’t appear rude. You were speechless. The idea of getting up in front of your whole class and flipping the switch on the back of a robot to expose his other form, likely to stage lights and loud music…it wasn’t the most appealing to say the least, and you figured Mettaton saw your thoughts written plainly across your face as he spoke up again. “But (y/n), you should definitely be the one to do it! You’re the only one I trust with touching me in such a vulnerable place, after all,”

If he could’ve winked, you knew the robot would have, but instead his screen flashed a mixture of red and yellow – and was that a heart you saw flash on his screen for a split second? You swore it was a heart; your mouth went a little bit dry at the implications in his statement and you continued to struggle for something to say to him in response, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Oh, I know you’ll do it, darling! I know you like the spotlight, even if you say you don’t! Don’t you remember our battle together down in the underground? Twelve thousand viewers! You’re a natural!” And with that, he patted your head and hurriedly followed Alphys away. You were too preoccupied with Mettaton’s words to have heard her goodbye.

Sighing, you adjusted your backpack and turned away from them. Your first class started in about ten minutes, so it would be best to get there. You didn’t know what Alphys and Mettaton were going to do until ten. You figured they were headed to your science professor’s room, but you couldn’t stop to find out, given that that class was on the opposite end of the school. You hurriedly turned to start heading to your first class, a little worried about the coming day, though not enough to dwell on it. You had other things to do and there was going to be no stopping the lecture you were going to be receiving from Alphys in your next class, and definitely no stopping Mettaton from trying to capture the audiences’ hearts.

 

A few hours later, you entered your science classroom and immediately your eyes locked onto the front of the lecture hall. Your professor was talking to Alphys, who was so engrossed in whatever it was they were talking about she didn’t even notice you walk in. Glancing further around the room, you noted that Mettaton was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise you much. You figured he would want to make a big entrance, so he was probably waiting in the hallway or your professor’s office. As you took a few more steps into the classroom, Alphys must’ve caught sight of you, for she paused in conversation to wave and give you a nervous grin.

You gave a wave and a thumbs up in response before heading to your seat. Of course she would be nervous. Sharing her scientific findings with researchers who would find the very existence of monsters interesting couldn’t have been all that stressful. They would understand her scientific jargon and be eager to hear what she had to say. However, giving a presentation to a bunch of half-asleep young adults, most of them only in the class to complete core requirements was an entirely different story.

A few minutes after sitting in your usual spot and dragging out your materials to get ready for the class, the clock struck ten. You could hear the distant chime of the clock tower on the campus. Cued by the bell, your professor stepped forward to begin.

“Everyone, today we’re going to have a special treat instead of a normal lecture. I know that right now we are discussing light and sound, but today, we have a special guest that is going to speak to you about robotics.” All of the eyes in the room fell onto Alphys. You could practically feel the nervousness radiating off of her in waves, even from all the way back in your seat; you could see the way she had turned a bit red, sweat forming on her forehead, her face screwed up as she tried to appear confident. “Class, please welcome monsterkind’s royal scientist, Dr. Alphys.”

Your professor gestured over to the lizard monster with a smile and she took a few steps forward and raised a hand to wave to the class. “U-Um…hi everyone…I’m Dr. Alphys, and y-yeah…I’m Asgore’s royal scientist, s-so I was in charge of all of the scientific experiments and innovations in the underground…” As Alphys paused to grab a sip of water, the students around you began to whisper in excited, hushed tones. You wondered if this might’ve been the first time some of them had actually heard a monster talk.

“S-So…I did lots of different experiments in the underground…b-but today I’m here to talk to you specifically about a certain creation of mine! A robot named Mettaton!”

The student next to you leaned back in their chair to whisper to the person behind them. “Dude, that name sounds familiar…isn’t that the robot on TV? My little sister watches its show all the time…she gets a kick out of when it sprouts legs and dances…”

“Now, if we could all just wait a second fo-“

Alphys was cut off by Mettaton crashing through the door of your professor’s office, blowing it off of its hinges in the process. You cringed a little at the harsh noise of it banging to the floor. That was going to have to be fixed. The look on Alphys’ face told you that Mettaton had definitely come in before his cue. There was a microphone in his hand; as if he’d need it to amplify his voice. He didn’t even have a mouth to speak into it with. “Hello beauties and gentlebeauties! How are we all doing today?” The robot was met with silence. It was so quiet in the absence of his booming mechanical voice, you could’ve heard a pen drop.

He let out a chuckle, one you thought sounded a bit forced. “You know, everyone, audience participation is a lot more fun if the audience participates!” Even still, not one student said a word. Not even you could bring yourself to speak up to your friends; at least, not when the hundreds of judging eyes of your classmates would fall onto you the second you opened your mouth.

Alphys had watched the whole spectacle with wide eyes, and when the robot finally paused, she took the chance to clear her throat and speak again. “Aha, yeah…there he is…um…M-Mettaton is a robot built for entertainment. Down in the underground, he was a really popular TV star a-“

“Built for entertainment? Oh Alphys darling, I think you meant I was born to entertain! A personality and talent such as mine simply cannot be _built_ using gears and wires!”

At this, someone in the third row of seats in the lecture hall raised their hand. Mettaton froze in his place, and you briefly wondered how he managed to look so affronted without a face, before Alphys called on the human. “Um, technically you were built to entertain, though. That’s how robots are…they’re built and programmed to act a certain way…I just can’t really believe I’m having a conversation with a robot now, to be honest,” turning his focus onto Alphys, the student added, “I’m impressed with the processing abilities you outfitted this robot with! It’s almost like it can actually _think_!”

 _Oh no_. You were pretty sure everyone in the room knew that the robot was pissed off now, expression or not. Alphys stuttered out a laugh, her face growing redder by the second as she was unable to think up anything else to say or anything to do that could alleviate the situation. “Oh darling, I can definitely think!” Mettaton shouted up at the student. “And if you’d like to know what I think of you, the-“

“O-Okay! More about Mettaton! So down in the underground, he was a really popular TV star, and that’s carried over here as well! You have a few of your own shows, right?”

“Right you are, Dr. Alphys! I have my own cooking show, my own newscast, my own dancing show, my own singing show...how many of you out there in the audience have seen at least one of my shows? Go on, raise your hands!” Mettaton’s own hand shot into the air and he waited a few seconds, but not one student in the audience raised their hand.

 _Wow. Tough crowd_ , you thought, as you heard someone cough on the other side of the lecture hall. More seconds passed with Mettaton still holding his arm in the air. The screen on the front of his rectangular body flashed red and yellow, and you swore you detected a slight twitch of his arm as it was held high in the air. You felt bad for him; you really did, but it was no secret that the 18 – 40 demographic preferred Netflix to primetime television those days.

You sighed and shifted a bit in your seat. Was he going to stay like this until Alphys moved on? Or was he waiting for someone (you could’ve bet money that it was you) to put their hand up in the air? Slowly, you sank down in your seat and gingerly raised your hand slightly, barely lifting it to eye level. The silence continued to draw on, and you were sure Mettaton had seen you – he was facing you, and probably staring straight at you, after all – but he didn’t say a thing.

Suppressing a groan, you slowly raised your hand further until it stuck straight above your head. Finally, that seemed to appease him.

“Oh my darling (y/n)! I always knew I could count of you! Of course you’ve seen my shows! You’re simply _enamored_ with me, aren’t you? Back when we fought in the underground, what was it you wrote about me in your essay?” You began to shake your head as you felt your classmates’ eyes drift towards you. Mettaton paid them no mind as he produced a piece of paper. “Oh yes! I asked you to write about me and you wrote – and I am quoting this, folks – ‘hot hot legbot’. Do you remember?”

You didn’t even attempt to suppress your groan at that one. You hid your face in the sleeve of your shirt but you could still feel your classmates’ eyes boring holes into you. It was true; you had said that. You had gotten so startled by the sudden pause in actual combat that you’d hurriedly wrote the first thing you could thing of – which had happened to be that. It was more of a joke than anything, really – then again, it was pretty true, but still just a joke – and even though he’d told you he would be saving it, you didn’t think he’d _actually_ save it.

“Don’t be shy, (y/n)! You’re not the first to have fallen for me, you know! Plus, you have a very important role in this performance! It’s time to reveal my true form! (Y/n), come on down!”

You peeked out from behind your arm. Mettaton was waiting expectantly. You shot a quick glance at Alphys and then your professor, pleading for help. Neither of them did anything; they seemed to be expecting you to do as Mettaton said, if only for the sake of continuing on with the lecture. You wondered if you could just ignore him and try to ride out the rest of the time, but a glance at the clock did nothing but confirm you had too much time left to do that.

So, without any other options, you got to your feet and shuffled down to the front of the lecture hall, feeling your face burning and your classmates’ eyes trained on you the entire way. You stopped in front of Mettaton, your eyes fixed on the ground beneath you. He beeped and whirred excitedly. “That’s it, sweetheart! Now you’re playing along! Are you all ready to see something gorgeous?” Not one person in the room answered him. “Great! I guess! Darling, you know what to do!”

And with that, he flipped around, exposing to you the big switch on his back, kindly labeled by Alphys. You sighed. He was really going to make you do this. You lifted your arm, but hesitated. You could feel the expectant eyes of everyone in the room on you. Mettaton was waiting patiently. You knew there was no way out of this. Even if you somehow racked up the courage to simply bolt out of the classroom, you knew the robot would come after you. He would definitely find you, and he would definitely drag you back and quite literally force you to flip the switch, even if he had to grab your wrist and do it for you.

You flipped the switch.

It was almost instantaneous. White smoke billowed around you and music blared. The lights dimmed and a single spotlight fell onto Mettaton. You weren’t even sure how he was controlling the lights, but he was anyhow. You tried not to choke on the smoke as you waited for it to clear. A rush of warm air blew it all out of the way and there was Mettaton posing dramatically in his EX form, his metal body glinting in the harshness of the spotlight.

You heard your professor give an enthusiastic, “Ooh!” Over the roar of the music, but as you stared out into the crowd, you noticed that not one of them really seemed to care. Their faces were blank and uninterested, a few of them not even bothering to pay attention to what was happening, their hands still, not clapping to the beat or applauding the robot before them. You glanced back over at him, feeling self-conscious but sorry for him at the same time. No one seemed to care as much as he did, but the moment you saw his face, you wondered if he could even tell that the audience would’ve been more thrilled to watch paint dry.

“This, my darling audience, is my true form, designed in collaboration by yours truly and the brilliant Dr. Alphys!”

Alphys stepped forward to give a shy wave. She was just as uncomfortable with the lights and the music and the smoke as you were, though you had the suspicion that she had to deal with this way more than you did. “So yeah...t-this is Mettaton's EX form, and it's a little...more extravagant than his other form...b-but I've neglected to tell you one of the most fascinating features Mettaton has! At least, it's fascinating to me...”

She trailed off quietly, her expression becoming unsure as she gazed around at your classmates. They were still listening to the lecture with bored looks on their faces. A few had taken to doodling or texting or snickering with the friend that sat next to them instead of even trying to pay attention to the spectacle anymore. You doubted it really made much sense anymore, given the blaring music and the shining lights.

“S-So...Mettaton actually has anti-human combat features!”

That seemed to grab the attention of a handful of the audience members. They glanced up from their papers and their phones with puzzled looks on their faces, almost as if questioning if they'd heard Alphys right. Though there would be no need for anti-human combat features on the surface, none of your classmates had ever experienced life in the underground, so you sincerely doubted they could sympathize with the monsters like you could. You could've even bet money that this was the first time some of them had even seen a monster this close before.

But nonetheless, the anti-human combat features were not a shock to you, especially not when you'd witnessed them firsthand. A few audience members continued to stare in wonder at the robot now leaning back dramatically on your professor's desk. “N-Now, I know that might be shocking to a lot of you, but down in the underground, it was the norm for us! We weren't used to humans and we were trying to collect their souls to escape...”

The room was silent for a few moments, the music and lights having faded as Mettaton reverted to simply laying on your professor's desk. “Ah, well, Dr. Alphys, I suppose that's simply a difference between the human and monster world that is a little...difficult for us to understand.” Your professor chuckled awkwardly, lifting a hand to rub the back of their neck.

Mettaton rolled over on the desk, shifting from laying on his stomach to laying on his back, upside down – how the hell was that chunk of hair still in place over his eye? – but still smiling brightly at the crowd. “(Y/n)'s teacher! Would you like me to demonstrate?”

The robot was met with a quick exclamation of “No!” Both from your professor and Alphys, both wearing expressions of horror. His face fell a bit, lips forming into a pout as he _hmmph_ ed and gave a “suit yourselves,” with a toss of his head and a cross of his arms over his metal chest.

Alphys tried to steer the presentation back on track. “N-Now, I'd like to talk more about the mechanics behind Mettaton. You see, his body is powered by a li-”

He cut her off with a flourish, leaping in front of her and grabbing her with one of his arms, bringing her in close. “Oh, Alphys darling! These little students don't want to hear you talk about boring things like that! They want drama! Romance! Bloodshed! And I am here to deliver!”

You blinked out at the crowd. If you had to guess, you'd say that they would rather be at home sleeping than talking about robots or some sort of drama-romance-bloodshed combo. Though you were sure by now that Alphys had picked up on the audience's disappointment, you didn't think Mettaton had even realized they didn't care at all about his TV shows or his talent, only about passing this class and going home.

Your professor cut the pair of them off before you could see what happened next.“Well...uh...I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but this was certainly... _interesting_ , if nothing else...” Your professor muttered, shuffling over to the center of the room from where the side of the room, where they had been watching the entire time. They turned to address the class. “I suppose...if there's nothing really _scientific_ left to talk about, that concludes this lecture. Besides, I was supposed to dismiss the class five minutes ago.”

Alphys gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. “O-Oh my god, really? We're so sorry – we had no idea!” Though she was apologizing for the both of them, you didn't think Mettaton was very remorseful, with the way he was still dramatically posing in the center of the room. Whether or not he knew what dismissing a class entailed you did not know. You couldn't help but chuckle a little at that. Plus, he was still wearing that hat with your school logo on it, and though it looked much more fit on a humanoid head than it did on top of a rectangle, it still looked silly.

“Ah, don't worry about it...you two were, uh...engrossed in what you were doing, I suppose.” Turning to face the rest of the class, your professor waved them away. “Thank you all for listening to that lecture. Let's give a round of applause to Dr. Alphys and Mettaton!” There were a few scattered claps among students. Alphys was turning red in the wake of the praise, however scarce it was. “Right, uh...class dismissed.”

You hurried back to your seat to gather up your things. You had another class in ten minutes, and you weren't looking forward to the walk across campus to get to it. Other students bustled around you, making their own way out. The group of girls next to you snickered as they passed, but you were too busy feeling sorry for Alphys and Mettaton to care about yourself. Alphys was really looking forward to the presentation and wanted it to be informative and entertaining, and even though it was clear to you that Mettaton only cared about being one of those things, you couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the pair of them, since to your classmates, they had honestly been neither.

You met them by the door and walked out with them. It was silent for a long time as they walked you to your next class. They didn't have anywhere to be after the presentation and should've been heading home, but it still made you happy that they were willing to continue to walk with you.

“(Y-Y/n),” Alphys began, her voice unsteady and unsure. “I'm...we're sorry. That presentation was a ridiculous disaster! You must be so embarrassed and ashamed to be friends with us...” You could hear the tears in her voice, so you quickly turned, hushing her to console her.

“Alphys! Don't say that! Your presentation was...uh...different,” your search for an appropriate adjective proved futile, so you opted for that word instead. “But I thought it was entertaining! My classmates just don't really have a sense of humor! Honestly, they were all probably bored just because they were at school! I'm sure they liked it, even if they didn't show it...” You actually weren't very sure if they had. Young adults these days were fickle with their interests and you didn't even think the addition of monsters to their world had really phased them that much.

Alphys glanced up at you with bleary, tear-filled eyes and sniffled. “R-Really? You liked it...?” She asked you, a small smile beginning to make its way onto her face. You returned the grin, pulling her into a gentle hug.

“I thought you guys were fantastic. Even if it was a little disorganized sometimes, it was charming. That's all that really matters, isn't it?” The lizard monster nodded her head against your chest and you rubbed her back. Suddenly, another pair of much stronger arms were around you, metal and chilled to the touch. Mettaton laughed in that strange mechanical way he had.

“Well I'm glad we're all having fun here! I certainly did!” He pulled the cap down on his head a bit and you and Alphys couldn't help but share a few giggles. “But, I think it's time for (y/n)'s next class, is it not? We don't want to hold them up, do we?” Alphys quickly muttered out a quick “No,” and sheepishly let go of you. “Right! So I think we should let them get going. In fact, I think I need to buy a shirt to go with this hat!”

His exclamation was excited as he began hurrying off in the opposite direction towards the school store. Alphys called for him to wait, but after a few moments she sighed and began hurrying after him. She called over her shoulder to you, “Sorry about holding you up, (y/n)! We'll see you later; Toriel invited us over for dinner!”

She waved and you waved back at her, before she finally disappeared in the throngs of students moving around the building. Adjusting the straps of your bag, you turned and headed down the hall and towards your next class, shaking your head a bit, though all with a smile.

Your friends were strange; really strange, but you supposed that was what made them interesting, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of college courses, you settle down for dinner with Toriel and a few guests. What better way to close out a completely normal day than with a completely normal dinner?

Opening the door to your home, you were greeted by the smell of something wonderful. Eager to find out what it was, you quickly headed to your room and tossed your bag aside, making a beeline for the kitchen. The part of you that wasn’t intently focused on finding out what was cooking noted that Flowey wasn’t in his usual place on your windowsill, and it made you happy to think that he was now able to lounge around the house wherever he wanted.

You stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the room radiating from it instantly relaxing you. You could’ve curled up right there on the floor and taken a nap, probably; especially after a stressful day of college. Toriel was at the stove, stirring something – likely whatever it was you would be having for dinner – in a large steaming pot. It smelled heavenly. At the sound of your footsteps, she turned. “Ah, (y/n)! Did you have a good day at school?” She abandoned the food for a moment to walk over to you and wrap her furry arms around you in a hug.

“Eh,” you began as soon as you two had parted, unsure of how to explain your day. It wasn’t any different from any other day, really; there was the never-ending drone of your professors’ lectures that threatened to put you to sleep, the dismal early morning hours where no one had the energy to even glance at each other, let alone strike up a conversation, and the period after lunch where everyone suddenly decided they were ready to talk, turning the college campus into an excited, chatty buzz. It was all normal, except for your science class anyways, where two of your friends had given a presentation that had been a little…quirky, to say the least. “It was alright, I guess.” You finally finished for her, a little vaguely. You knew she wanted to know exactly what had happened during the presentation, but didn’t really know how to explain the fact that everyone had been bored out of their skulls to her mildly.

“Just alright, hmm?” She murmured, tilting her head at you for a moment before turning back to the point. On the counter next to the stove, you could see a cooking book opened up, but you couldn’t make out what the recipe was for exactly. “Well, how did the presentation go with Dr. Alphys and Mettaton?”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot. She had asked the question you were anticipating. “Well…” You struggled to find something about it to say that wasn’t too harsh. “That was alright too, I guess. Kind of…weird. But I thought it was entertaining.” You shrugged it off. “Anyways, I heard Alphys and Mettaton were coming over for dinner.” You offered up the conversation topic, eager to change it and drift off of the presentation. You weren’t lying. It was weird and you did think it was pretty funny, but you wondered if that was only because the two were your friends and you were used to their weird antics.

“Oh yes, they are. I invited them over. I figured the three of you would be in need of a good meal after your busy day!” You followed her eyes over to the page in the cook book, taking a few steps forward to examine it closer. “I thought I would try this recipe I found in a human cook book…It’s a for a stew…does it smell alright?” Immediately, you nodded vigorously, and leaned over to peer into the pot. There were vegetables – the ones you recognized immediately were carrots, celery, and potatoes – and some kid of meat, all bubbling in a thick brown broth. “Of course, I’ll have to strain the broth from the vegetables for Mettaton…Alphys still hasn’t finished upgrading his digestive system, so he still can’t have large amounts of liquid yet.”

You just nodded, closing your eyes as you inhaled the steam coming from the pot. Just then, you happened to glance over and see Flowey on the counter beside the book. You momentarily wondered why he opted to be near Toriel instead of next to a window on the other side of the house, but your eyes fell down to the food and you chuckled a bit. He immediately took offense and turned away, while Toriel piped up to explain that she had asked Flowey if he would taste it while she was cooking, and many insults to both her culinary skills and intelligence later, he had deemed it _not completely terrible_.

“Alphys and Mettaton should arrive within the hour. You can make yourself comfortable if you’d like.” The goat monster offered with a smile. Even though you would’ve loved nothing more than to curl up in her large arm chair in front of the fire and relax – possibly even nap – until dinner was served, you knew you had to get at least some of your homework done, so you begrudgingly headed into your room and dragged out your backpack.

You did decide to go for a compromise though. Instead of setting up your school work on the dining room table or the desk in your room like you usually did, you decided to sit back in Toriel’s arm chair, the fire roaring pleasantly beside you, and do your course work there. You had brought Flowey out to rest beside you – careful to place him on the end table away from the fire, in case it crackled and shot out a spark – since you knew, even if he complained about being near you and all of Toriel’s s _tupid old lady house décor_ , he liked the warmth that radiated from the fire.

 

You studied and worked for maybe around thirty minutes. You’d gotten a good chunk of your workload for the night done, despite the threat of being lulled to sleep by the warm fire or the cozy arm chair or the gentle sounds of Toriel bustling around in the kitchen. Even the drone of Flowey insulting you as you worked eventually faded into the rest of the atmosphere, and for a few moments after you’d finished, feeling so warm and comfortable and accomplished, you couldn’t help but close your eyes.

Naturally, after what felt like mere seconds, the doorbell rang, jolting you out of your nap. The book on your lap ungracefully slid with a thud onto the floor, and you hurriedly gathered it and the rest of your school supplies and shoved them back into your bag before rushing to the door. You opened it, and were greeted by Alphys – smiling shyly up at you, probably still a little nervous after the day’s presentation – and Mettaton – as exuberant and flamboyant as ever, with a huge smile on his face. You were just thankful he was no longer wearing the hat with your school’s logo on it.

The three of you exchanged hellos and you invited them in, leading them into the dining room where Toriel had already set out bowls of the stew as well as a plate of biscuits. While they sat down, you headed back to the living room to grab Flowey – after all, there were five bowls set out on the table – and you sat down, placing the flower next to you. You slid his bowl closer to him and just as you were about to grab your spoon, you heard a whine.

You glanced up. Alphys had been about to sit down on the other side of you, but had been stopped by a pouting robot. “Alphys, I want to sit by (y/n)!” he exclaimed, even though he’d already sat down on the other side of the table. He had extended one of his arms across it and placed a gloved hand on the chair, blocking her from sitting down. The sight was pretty comical to you, but you didn’t say anything; you didn’t know why Mettaton would be so excited about sitting next to you anyways. It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t see each other often.

“Uh…” Alphys glanced from his hand on the chair, to you, and then back. You still didn’t say anything. You didn’t really care either way who sat next to you since they were both friends, and though you hoped it didn’t devolve into an argument, you were going to stay out of it. “Well…uh…o-okay, we can trade seats I guess…” She murmured, standing up with a shrug, sliding her bowl over to the seat Mettaton was sitting in.

He beamed. “Marvelous! Thank you, Alphys!” The robot sprang to his feet to wrap both of his arms around the startled lizard monster in a hug, and despite the fact that you knew she was probably the person to have spent the most time with Mettaton, you didn’t think she was very used to that sort of display, given her stuttering and her red face and the way she awkwardly patted his back. After he let go of her, he turned on his heel and immediately did the same thing to you: wrapped his arms around you with an inhuman strength, squeezing you a little too tightly to his metal chest, even lifting you slightly until your butt was no longer on your chair.

At your protests, he quickly set you back down and took the seat next to you. Toriel had taken her own seat as well – next to Alphys – and everyone began to eat. You spooned some potatoes and carrots into your mouth and immediately let out an _mmm_. It tasted like it smelled; rich, hearty, and savory. The vegetables were practically melting on your tongue, and you relished the flavors, chewing the food slowly before you swallowed. Beside you, Flowey was slurping his food noisily and Toriel chided him for doing so, but he simply shot her a glare and slurped it louder. The scene made you chuckle but feel a little sad for the same time, since neither of them could realize the irony of the situation.

On your other side, Mettaton was holding a fork daintily in his hand, and momentarily you wondered if he was going to stick his pinky finger out as he ate or something, but he did not. He stabbed a potato and brought it to his lips, carefully and thoughtfully chewing it, before with an _mmm_ very similar to your own, swallowed it. Faintly, you heard the clunks of it as it slid down into his artificial stomach, which you were pretty sure was just a container that he would have to empty out later.

He glanced over at you, noticing the expression of bewilderment you must’ve been wearing, but simply flashed a brilliant smile. “Interested in something, darling?” He asked in a teasing tone, twirling his fork between his fingers and resting his chin on his other hand, leanin over to you until you could see the very fine details of his metal body – like all the screws and nuts and bolts holding him together. You immediately whipped your gaze away from him and into your bowl, feeling your cheeks grow warm. Thankfully, Toriel and Alphys were too absorbed in their own conversation to have noticed the exchange. You doubted Mettaton even really cared if you were staring at him. It wasn’t like he didn’t get the same treatment everywhere he went; with monsters staring at him in awe because they were seeing their beloved television star, and humans staring at him because their thoughts were something akin to _holy shit is that a robot_.

“I-I-Uh,” you stuttered out, your face heating up even more as he was just so casual about it, like he was with everything. His gloved fingers were idly tapping out a pattern on his chin, a coy smile playing on his artificial lips. It was almost like he enjoyed watching you squirm, seeing the blood rise to your cheeks and sweat bead on your brow. “S-Sorry,” you hastily stumbled out an apology. “I-I just…don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat before. Or, ah, more of heard, I guess…” You shrugged, filling the silence with another bite of your stew.

“I suppose you haven’t,” the robot agreed finally, reaching into the center of the table to grab a biscuit off of the plate and tear a piece off of it, then chew it and swallow it, as thoughtfully as he had the first time. Again, you heard the faint clunks of it sliding down the tube that connected his mouth to the container for his food, and you swore you saw his smirk widen as your face turned red again. He laughed after the final clunk of it hitting the very bottom of the container, probably at the way you jumped a bit. “I have an artificial esophagus and stomach – which is basically just a tube connected to a box. It can hold food and very small amounts of liquid…Alphys is still upgrading it so eventually I’ll able to have liquid without the dangers of shorting myself out.” He beamed over at you after he had finished explaining it, as if he was extremely proud of his body’s capabilities. And you had to admit, Alphys had done an outstanding job on making it resemble that of a human’s.

“Oh, and that little clunking you hear? Even my esophagus and stomach are made of metal – so naturally you hear it all as it goes down. You would with humans too, if you all weren’t so soft and fleshy!” Mettaton emphasized this with a poke to your stomach and another smile, before he resumed eating the dry stew. You chuckled in response, a hand coming up to touch the place where he had poked you. After the tickling feeling subsided, you went back to eating your own food as well, and the dinner went on relatively uneventfully. You talked about your college courses with Alphys, who seemed particularly interested in what you were studying in your science class and how it compared with what she had been studying as soon as she’d hit the surface. You also talked about Toriel’s teaching job at her school and how it was going, and she told a few funny stories about the children that made you all laugh.

After you all finished with your dinner, Toriel brought out the dessert: the muffins she had baked a day earlier, somehow still tasting fresh, along with ice cream. Mettaton only had a muffin, since if the ice cream melted while in his artificial stomach, it could’ve posed a problem, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Even Flowey seemed less ornery than usual when served dessert, despite the fact that he was still glaring daggers at everyone around him, he was keeping quiet and wasn’t constantly berating you all. Overall it was a nice dinner with your friends, and after it had finished, you migrated out into the living room to sit in front of the fire. You’d returned Flowey to your windowsill, Toriel and Alphys had offered to clean the dishes in the kitchen – you had offered your help too, but they both insisted you go and relax instead – and Mettaton had excused himself to a restroom, probably to get rid of the food he had eaten earlier.

You were lounging comfortably in Toriel’s large arm chair, your stomach pleasantly full, watching the flames dance and swirl before your eyes, thankful for the glow of heat that warmed you up. It had been getting chillier outside lately, and you no longer looked forward to your morning walks through the frost-covered grass to the campus. You heard a soft plop next to you, and glanced over to see that Mettaton had sat cross-legged on the rug next to the chair, as he was likely also appreciating the warmth of the fire. You didn’t know how, but Alphys had somehow managed to give Mettaton the ability to _feel_ things when he touched them. You felt a pang of regret when you realized she’d never gotten to explain the details behind his design. Your teacher would’ve enjoyed it at least, even if your classmates wouldn’t’ve.

“(Y/n)?” Mettaton spoke up suddenly, startling you a bit – not only because the soft sound of his voice had interrupted the crackling of the fire, but also because he had placed a hand on your arm. It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was definitely unexpected. “You and I…we’re friends, aren’t we?” He asked and you didn’t think you’d ever heard the robotic TV star sound unsure before, nor did you know where he would ever get the idea that the two of you weren’t friends. Granted, you didn’t spend as much time with him as Sans and Papyrus, for example, but that was mainly because of how much your schedules differed. He had filming for all of his various TV shows and you had your classes. It made it hard to find time to hang out sometimes.

“Of course we are, Mettaton.” You assured him almost immediately, quick and confident in your words. At your response, he broke into a dazzling smile, and for a second you thought you could see little hearts flash in his eyes – after all, they were basically just little LED screens – but brushed it off as just him being as candid with his friendly affections as ever. His hand didn’t leave your arm, offering a gentle pressure as he smiled at you, the sound of the fire roaring in the background combined with his presence enough to make you relax.

“Good, haha…I thought we were, but it’s…good to make sure.” His tone was surprisingly gentle and soft, free from all of his usually loud, showy attitude. “Anyways, I have a favor to ask of you sweetheart.” Without so much as waiting for a response from you, he talked on. “Are you busy this Saturday?” Immediately, your thoughts fled to the possibility that he was asking you on a date. You didn’t know why, but the idea of Mettaton, the underground’s most famous (and only) celebrity, adored by monsters everywhere, asking you out on a date made your hearts fluttered. You didn’t know why; you were only friends, after all. He’d just confirmed that, not even five minutes ago!

“Uh…no…I don’t think so…” You told him in response, loathing the way you felt your cheeks grow warmer at the image of you and Mettaton in a fancy restaurant, his face illuminated by candles as he smiled coyly, his hand resting idly on top of yours on top of the table…you quickly shook your head to rid it of the image. Mettaton might’ve been an attractive robot, but you didn’t like him in _that_ way, and you doubted he like you _that_ way either. After all, all of the monsters in the underground still referred to you as _kid_ , even when they knew you were a fully grown adult. It was probably because of how old they were; Toriel had told you once that monsters were much, much older than humans were and some could even live forever – so really, any human, no matter their age, might as well have been a child to him. Briefly, you wondered how old the robot might be – his body was impeccable, not a scratch or a spot of rust on him to give away his age; not even in his rectangular form – but you finally turned your attention onto him, a little nervous, as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Fantastic! Would you be willing to come over to my place and help me come up with new ideas for my shows? After all, you’re a natural at gaining ratings, darling!” Oh. Your cheeks burned with shame at your own stupidity. _Of course_ he didn’t want to go on a date! Why did you even consider that a possibility? You were friends and that was that. You weren’t even sure why the thought had crossed your mind. Either way, you didn’t think you had anything planned. You didn’t have classes scheduled and, considering tomorrow was Friday, you doubted any of your professors would assign any impromptu essay or project that absolutely had to be done by Saturday. You didn’t think Toriel would mind either. She liked it went you spent time with your friends, in fact.

“I don’t know why you need my help, but…sure…I guess I can try.” You shrugged your shoulders, shifting a bit in the comfortable chair. Mettaton’s face lit up like a Christmas tree – and given that he was a robot, his eyes quite literally did light up – and he practically tackled you into a hug, scooping you out of the chair and into his arms. Thankfully, his metal chest wasn’t as cold as it could’ve been, warmed by the heat of the fire.

“Oh, I just knew you would say yes! You can’t resist the spotlight, (y/n) and you _definitely_ can’t resist me!” The robot was practically purring, nuzzling your cheek affectionately. In fact, the gentle whir of the mechanics inside of him almost did sound like purring for a moment, but as you focused to listen, he set you down. “You should be over at noon and I’ll give you all the details then! I’ll even have a nice lunch prepared for the both of us! We’re going to have lots of fun,” he gushed, grabbing both of your hands into his own comically large gloves, giving them a squeeze.

Just then, you heard footsteps come from down the hall, distracting you from the overly-excited robot. “A-Ah, there you are, Mettaton. It’s about time we got going. I have work to do back at the lab and you have episodes of _Cooking With a Killer Robot_ to record.” Alphys entered the living room, still wiping her wet hands on her jacket. Toriel was following her. They must’ve finished with the dishes.

“Already? So soon?” The robot asked with a tinge of sadness to his voice, but he dropped your hands without any second thought and stood to his full height. “I suppose you’re right. The life of a star as glamorous as me isn’t an easy one!” He glanced back towards you to wink, his trademark little smirk on his lips. “Anyways, thank you Toriel for a lovely evening, dinner was very nice, etc. etc.” He had moved over to grab one of Toriel’s paws in his hands and shake it, and her expression soured a bit at his idea of expressing gratitude, but Alphys stepped in.

“U-Uh, I think what Mettaton means to say…is it was a really lovely evening! Thank you for inviting us to dinner! The food was great and it was nice to spend time with you and (y/n)!” The lizard monster smiled up at Toriel, and her expression immediately brightened at her more sincere attempt.

“You’re very welcome, Alphys. You know (y/n) and I always enjoy having you here in our home. You’re welcome back anytime…and you as well, I suppose, Mettaton.” The robot grinned over at her, before wrapping an arm around Alphys and scooting her to the door. Toriel followed the pair of them, and by the look in her eye, you could tell she was eager to lock the door behind the flamboyant robot.

“Yes yes, well, it’s best we get going now! Goodbye, (y/n)! See you on Saturday!” He waved over at you, barely giving Alphys any time to stutter out her own farewells before he disappeared out the door, and Toriel quickly shut it behind them, watching them through them through the peephole for a moment before she locked it with a sigh.

Turning back to you, her expression was a bit sheepish. “I know it isn’t good for you to see me act this way, my child, but…well…it’s just…Mettaton can be a little…” She grunted noncommittally, shrugging her shoulders. “A little much at times, if you know what I mean. I don’t know what the two of you are doing on Saturday, but I’d like to remind you to always be careful. Now, it would be best if you did the rest of your homework, so I will leave you to that. In fact, I think I’m going to turn in early tonight…I’m a little…” She glanced off to the door, and you could predict that her thoughts were again on the robot who was likely dragging Alphys home through the nighttime chill. “Exhausted. Goodnight.” She shuffled forward to wrap her arms around you in a hug and place a kiss on your forehead, before, smiling gently, she disappeared to her own room.

You sighed as you sunk down into the arm chair again. The fire was still roaring gently, fueled by Toriel’s fire magic, so it would never go out and there was no danger of it burning the house down. Its warmth comforted you as you pulled out your study materials again. You were grateful that you’d gotten done a majority of your homework earlier, since it meant now you wouldn’t have to do as much and you wouldn’t be kept up for too late. You didn’t know what exactly to expect when you would head over to Mettaton’s on Saturday…and you also didn’t exactly know what Toriel meant about being careful. It was just Mettaton. You two were only friends. What could possibly go wrong?

Just then, you had the sudden realization you had no idea where Mettaton lived or how you would be getting to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the actual plot stuff begins.
> 
> ...this is updating really slowly and i apologize for that but it all depends on my time/motivation so yea


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head over to Mettaton's apartment to help him come up with some new show ideas and an average afternoon ensues.

Honestly, you should’ve predicted that Mettaton would send a car for you, knowing his flamboyant personality and desire to please. Regardless, you hadn’t, and unfortunately you had bundled up in your heavy winter coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. You had been ready to brave the approaching chill of winter while you searched for Mettaton’s apartment – after many futile attempts at texting the robot himself, you had texted Alphys and she’d given you very vague directions to where the robot lived – but there had no need for all of your extra clothing. As soon as you had opened the front door to your house, you had been surprised to find a hot pink limousine parked along the curb with a monster chauffeur clad in a sleek black suit leaning against it, claiming he was supposed to escort you to Mettaton’s home.

Of course, now you were currently riding in the back of said flashy limousine – which you were honestly surprised didn’t have Mettaton’s face on it somewhere – feeling increasingly uncomfortable surrounded by plush black leather seats and tinted windows and a chilled bottle of some sort of sparkling water. You knew everyone outside was staring at the limo with curious eyes, wondering who could be inside of it, and just the thought of having so much attention focused on you made you shiver. You had discarded your hat, scarf, and gloves the moment you’d stepped into the limo, but had opted to keep your coat on; a huge mistake, given how much you were now currently sweating. The limo was pleasantly war – almost too warm, and you wondered if Mettaton had told the chauffeur to crank the heat all the way up to protect your fragile human body from the cold.

You wouldn’t have put it past him.

After maybe ten minutes of driving and being uncomfortably cozy and warm, you had arrived to your destination. The chauffeur parked the limousine in front of one of the nicest apartment complexes in the city before he stepped out to open the door of you. Gathering your items, you stepped out onto the sidewalk, glancing all the way to the top of the building. Instead of several buildings like a normal apartment complex, it was one skyscraper of a building, reaching high into the clouds. You couldn’t help but wonder which floor Mettaton stayed on, but knowing his personality, you figured that he would want to stay on the very top floor.

You stepped into the building, your cheeks and nose a bit red from standing outside in the cold, and your eyes widened as they fell upon the worker behind the counter of the front desk. It was that burger guy from Mettaton’s resort – the one who offered you tons of advice that you weren’t really sure was worth anything. You couldn’t remember his name as anything other than _Burgerpants_ , and you doubted he had bothered to give you any other name, but knowing the history behind it, you didn’t want to call him that, so you simply cleared your throat until his attention was dragged from whatever game he was playing on his phone.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t my little buddy,” he began, sitting up in the chair and removing his sneakered feet from the desk. “Come to get more of my advice? Or are you the special guest Mettaton’s been blabbing about all morning? God, you should’ve heard him! _I want the seat cushions in the lobby dry cleaned and fluffed! I have a very special guest coming later, and everything has to be perfect for them! And burger flipping kid, can’t you see the sign? No smoking in the damn lobby!_ ” Burgerpants did a too-high-pitched impression of his boss before breaking off into laughter, lighting up a cigarette right in front of the large sign that read _No Smoking!!_ In large, angry red letters.

“Who am I kidding, you’re definitely here to see Mettaton. Take it from me, little buddy, he’s been making the entire staff jump through hoops all morning to make sure your little visit goes off without a hitch. I don’t know why he’s so dead set on impressing you, but he definitely is, so if I were you, I would go on up there to see him. Yep, right over there, elevator to your left. Go to the top floor. He’ll be waiting. Have a fabu-ful day.” The cat monster blew smoke out from his mouth, which you hurried over to the elevator to avoid having to inhale.

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind you and you were alone, you let out a huff. You didn’t know how that burger flipping kid got a job at an apartment complex like this, but something told you Mettaton had something to do with it…and now that you thought about it, you were curious as to why the robot would be so worked up over your visit. After all, you were just heading over to help him come up with some ideas for his shows and that was it. Shrugging it off as Burgerpants overreacting to his boss’ naturally needy personality, you pressed the button for the top floor.

About thirty seconds later, the elevator halted and the doors opened. You stepped out to examine your surroundings. Only one door – painted an obnoxiously bright pink – was on the opposite wall. Other than that, there was really nothing in the hallway except for a bench to sit on and a few ferns that looked as if they’d been overwatered. There weren’t even any windows overlooking the street. The only thing that solidified your resolve that you were outside of Mettaton’s apartment was that you had gone to the top floor, where there was only one suit, with a bright pink door. It all screamed Mettaton.

You took a few steps forward, raising your hand to knock, but just as your knuckles came into contact with the door, it flew open. “(Y/n)!” Mettaton practically squealed in excitement, immediately grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into the room and against his metal chest in a bone-crushing hug. “Wow! I didn’t think you would actually come! Did you make it here alright? Did you take the car I sent? I know I didn’t tell you about it, but I wanted it to be a surprise – and oh, were the staff nice to you? My personal chauffeur is always polite, but I never know if I can trust that stupid burger flipping kid – “ You cut him off with a laugh, and gently reassured him that everyone had been pleasant and you were happy to see him. As he broke off into a radiant smile, you pulled away to glance around. The apartment was exactly as you were expecting: spacious, tasteful modern furniture in varying shades of pink and black, stainless steel metals to compliment the colors, glitter and sheer fabrics everywhere. Very Mettaton.

As you glanced back to the robot, you noticed his attire had changed from the usual, which shocked you, given that you didn’t think the robot would ever actually want to wear clothing outside of his TV broadcasts. The large shoulder pads he normally wore were missing, and he was wearing a loose fitting t-shirt, though it was tucked into his belt. He also didn’t have his boots on, which shocked you the most. He had actual normal looking feet! “I got here fine, yeah,” you told him, placing your coat and other winter items on a coat rack near the door – or at least you attempted to, but as soon as Mettaton saw what you were doing he rushed over and took them from you to do it himself. “But, you could’ve sent a normal car instead of a limo, y’know. Driving around in something that fancy isn’t my style.”

He merely laughed in response. “Yes, I suppose it isn’t, but sending an old sedan to pick you up isn’t really _my_ style, you know…speaking of style, how do you like my décor? Nice, isn’t it?” He took a few steps forward, doing a spin. You had to admit, as predictable as he was with his sometimes eye-straining color choices, the overall design of the apartment was pleasing to the eye. A sleek black couch that looked to be made of leather coupled with a glass coffee table and matching end tables and a giant flat screen made up the living room. A panel of windows lay on the wall furthest from you, overlooking the city. Off to the side, you could see a hall that probably led to more rooms, and what looked like a kitchen.

“Yeah, it is really nice…it suits you very well.” You commented earnestly, taking a step further into the apartment, leaning down slightly to examine the polished wood. You pointed a finger to the plush-looking rug in the center of the floor. “I really like th – whoa – “ Mettaton had grabbed your wrist again and was dragging you forward into the room you thought was the kitchen, and suddenly you found yourself surrounded on all sides by stainless steel appliances and marble countertops, all polished and looking as if they’d never been used, which was no surprise to you considering the robot didn’t actually have to eat. However, there was a single pot on the stove top, and upon closer examination of it, you found inside…mac and cheese.

“I made you lunch!” The robot cheered in a sing-song voice, and you barely held your tongue from asking him if this dismal looking pot of pasta truly qualified as a lunch. When he had told you at dinner a few nights ago that he could make lunch for you, you had expected something grandiose and flashy; like one of his famous _Glamburgers_ ™ or that steak that was obnoxiously cut in the shape of his face. You definitely weren’t expecting this. He opened one of the countertop drawers and pulled out a spoon. You reached out to take it from him, but he paid no attention to you, shaking his head and dipping it into the pot. He pushed the snow mac-and-cheese-filled spoon against your lips, eager to get you to try it, and you quickly opened your mouth to avoid getting the cheese sauce all over your face.

Almost immediately, you regretted not insisting on feeding yourself when Mettaton had pulled out the spoon. He overestimated your human anatomy, pushing the spoon almost all the way to the back of your throat. You hurriedly grabbed onto his metal wrist and pulled it back, considering after all you had been through those past few months spent with monsters, you didn’t want to have _death by mac and cheese_ be the thing scrawled across your tombstone, and luckily for you, the robot relented and pulled back, an expectant look in his eyes and a small smile on his face. As soon as the spoon left your lips, you coughed and spluttered, barely managing to get a taste of the macaroni before it slid unceremoniously down your throat.

However, from what little of the dish you could taste, you could tell that the macaroni hadn’t been cooked long enough and would’ve been tough and chewy – had the robot allowed you to chew it – and one glance into the pot confirmed that the cheese sauce hadn’t been mixed well enough, with big clumps here and there and no cheese in other places. You briefly wondered if this might’ve been even worse than the first spaghetti dish Papyrus had ever served you, back when you were still down in the underground.

The robot was still staring at you with that expectant smile, his eyes glowing. Honestly, you didn’t even know how he would manage having his own cooking show if he couldn’t make something as simple as boxed mac and cheese! However, from your many months spent in the company of the two skeleton brothers, you had had your fair share of disasters with spaghetti, and had been hardened to the taste of terrible pasta. So, wiping away your grimace, you mustered a small smile and a thumbs up, and said in a hoarse voice, “T-Tastes great, Mettaton.”

The robot’s expression transformed into a wide smile and he beamed at you, but as he moved to dip the spoon into the pot again, you quickly stopped him, grabbing onto his metal wrist despite the fact that you knew he could easy overpower you if he wanted, practically shouting “NO!” His expression became bewildered, and for a moment you thought you could see hurt flash in his eyes, so you quickly explained that you had already eaten before you had left home, which was a complete lie and if you were honest with yourself, you were a little hungry. Understandingly, he nodded his head, before he grabbed hold of your wrist again and led you back into his living room where the two of you sat down on the black leather couch.

For a few long seconds that seemed to tick on for eternities, there was silence. The robot’s expression was unreadable. Mettaton, who normally expressed his emotions so freely, had his gaze fixed on the ground, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth pressed into a straight line. It was so quiet, you could even faintly hear the sounds of mechanical processes inside of him – the almost imperceptible turning of gears and whirring of fans. You swallowed hard as you waited for him to do something, anything, for it was so out-of-character for him to be silent like that, his eyes practically burning holes into the white carpet under his feet. Finally, his expression brightened the slightest, though it looked strange to you, and he chuckled. His laughter shocked you the most; it was so different from his usual gentle, musically airy sort of laugh, but instead it sounded as if it were lower, almost…darker.

“I know the food was terrible, darling.” He finally spoke up, and even his voice sounded as if it were a pitch lower. His gaze left the carpet and focused on your face, and you suppressed the shiver that threatened to crawl up your spine at his intense stare. His lips curled into a lopsided smile that seemed as if it were more of a smirk. “I normally don’t cook for myself, seeing as I don’t really have to eat, but I can assure you, I know how…especially instant noodles. That was all I would eat back when I was new and still lived with Alphys…they weren’t the greatest food, naturally, so I grew to resent eating a little bit. Terrible, isn’t it?” Dark chuckles came from him again and you laughed nervously along with him, unsure of how he would react if you didn’t.

You fell silent as soon as he did. The look in his eyes was expectant again, but you didn’t know why. You swallowed hard, processing what he had said to you. Just as it finally clicked, you opened your mouth to ask why the simple boxed mac and cheese meal had turned out so terribly, he smiled, as if you had done what he had been wanting all along, and placed a finger to your lips to stop you. “The macaroni and cheese was terrible, yes…truth be told, I was a little nervous when cooking today, (y/n).”

You couldn’t even stop the giggle that left you, no matter how hard you tried. Mettaton? Nervous? That was an oxymoron if you’d ever heard one. Thankfully, he didn’t take any offense to it, and simply laughed along with you, though he sounded dry and tired, like you’d never heard him sound before. “I know. Strange to think about, right? I thought so at first too…I went to Alphys, thinking maybe there was something wrong with me, a glitch in my system she could work out, but…to tell you the truth, sweetheart…I’ve been feeling nervous a lot lately. Well,” he flashed you a sheepish smile. “At least I think I’m nervous. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it…but I think I remember correctly. This is what it feels like.” He finished his thought with an affirmative nod.

“What are you nervous about?” You had blurted the question out without really thinking about what you were saying, but it genuinely intrigued you. A year ago, you couldn’t imagine you would be talking about deep feelings with a robot, but one trip down a hole later and here you were. Besides the fact, Mettaton had quite literally been built to be a star; he was designed to love the spotlight, to thrive on attention, to be full of confidence. How could someone like that ever be battling a case of nerves?

“Ah…well…” The robot began with a sigh. Leaning back into the black leather of the couch and crossing one leg over the other. He certainly looked and sounded nervous, given the way his eyes darted across the room, and how he seemed to be fidgety, bouncing his leg in place as he sat. “…you understand humans, right? How fickle they are, how hard it is to keep their attention for more than a second, even when you’re a singing, dancing robot…” He trailed off and though you weren’t exactly sure of what he was getting at, you had a vague idea that you thought had the potential to be true. You silently waited for him to continue.

“Sorry for being…vague,” he let out a nervous chuckle, his fingers tapping lightly against the arm of the couch. You didn’t get a chance to tell him it was alright before he launched into talking again. “The point is, darling, my ratings are dropping, and they’re dropping fast. At first I thought it was going to be okay…that I’d just hit a rough patch with that new movie about hungry birds or whatever coming out, that soon everyone would go back to loving me again…so I waited…but it didn’t happen. In fact, the ratings on my newscast fell so low, the network called me a week ago and dropped it. Over the phone, just like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis, and the harsh sound interrupted the calm, even tone of his voice, making you jump.

You remained silent for a few moments. The robot in front of you gave little indication of how he was feeling, and you were a bit shocked by his lack of emotion. You supposed it was moments like these that existed to remind you that he really was a robot, no matter how human his infectious personality seemed. He had to have been absolutely devastated to find out that the humans hadn’t enjoyed one of his shows; after all, you remembered him as one of the monsters most excited to get to the surface world, to share his talent with the humans. You couldn’t imagine what he must’ve been thinking, what he must’ve been _feeling_ , to know that the humans didn’t love him as much as he thought they would.

Finally, you managed to open your mouth and croak out a, “Mettaton…I’m sorry…” You knew it was lame and inadequate, since you doubted you could suddenly alleviate his feelings by apologizing on behalf of your species, but you felt the need to say it anyways, if only to express sympathy for his current situation.

The robot shrugged. “It’s alright, dear. It isn’t your fault…in fact, if everyone were like you, then I wouldn’t have any trouble gaining ratings, would I?” He laughed, dryly, and you momentarily wondered what he meant by that before he continued to talk. “I just…don’t really understand I guess. The humans liked me at first. They _really_ liked me. They…they thought I was so incredible. Revolutionary. They gave me so many slots on their little television networks…it was overwhelming at first, how many people wanted to see me.” He paused to sigh. “But…is this how things work in the human world…? Is everything to you just a novelty item, toyed with for a little while before it’s tossed aside in favor of the next big thing?”

Your mouth had gone dry. You couldn’t answer that question. You didn’t want to think of other humans like that, but in the back of your mind you knew he was exactly right and that he had barely scraped the surface of the fickle nature of humans, but you kept your mouth shut about it. Instead, you mustered up the nerve to murmur, “You aren’t a novelty, Mettaton…” As that seemed to be the only thing you could reassure the robot of.

Instantly, he brightened, a sweet smile on his face as he pulled you into a hug – though it was different from his other sudden bone-crushing hugs in which you’d find yourself pressed uncomfortably tight against his chest one moment and back on your feet the next. It was gentle, his arms finding their way around your back and pulling you to him, though his touch was cautious enough that you found yourself gently held against his metal frame, his fingers carding lightly through your hair, his chin resting delicately on top of your head, as if he were afraid you would break. “Thank you, beautiful,” he breathed above you, his honeyed voice barely audible over the sound of the fans whirring inside of him, which you could hear now better than you could ever before with your ear pressed directly against him.

You stayed like this for a while. It was nice; he was pleasantly warm from the working of the machines inside of him. His fingertips drew gentle patterns on your scalp and he hummed softly in your ear. For a robot – made completely and entirely out of metal – he was surprisingly comfortable. After what seemed like hours, Mettaton finally pulled away, his arms falling back down to his sides as he cleared his throat, his smile sheepish. “Ah…sorry for…for being such a downer, darling. I don’t mean to depress your or anything, but…it’s just been so long since I’ve gotten anything off of my chest, you know?”

Immediately, you nodded in understanding. You wanted to reassure him and tell him it was alright, but you found yourself at a loss for words. Instead, you just nodded again; and he beamed down at you. “Alright. Well! I’m glad I could get that out of the way. Now, to the real reason I invited you over today. I’d like to have some help coming up with ideas for my shows! I figured, who better to come up with ideas that interest humans than a human? And I know there’s no human better suited for the job than you, (y/n)! After all, you’re a natural on stage!”

You felt heat beginning to rise to your cheeks at the compliment and you chuckled; hoarse and nervous. You didn’t really think you were all that much of a star, but it was obvious Mettaton had a very high opinion of you, which made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “T-Thank you, but I’m no more talented than any other human, to be honest,” you assured him with a shrug. He merely laughed in response, and you were happy to find it was his normal high-pitched tinkling laughter. You joined him, even though you didn’t find what you had said all that funny, only for the two of you to be cut off by a loud, guttural growl.

It took you a few moments to realize that it was your stomach rumbling, and you immediately felt your cheeks burn with shame at your own human needs. Mettaton raised an eyebrow inquisitively at you, as he leaned in, eyes narrowed at the source of the noise. “Was that your…?” He trailed off, biting his lip, before in one quick, fluid motion he had the side of his head pressed to your stomach. Before you could even protest and push him away, your stomach let out another growl that was this time accompanied by a sharp pang of hunger.

Mettaton laughed, louder than you’d heard him for a while. Perhaps he really was dealing with some sort of anxiety, and you simply hadn’t realized it, figuring stars like him never experienced that sort of thing. Your face was burning up and you debated grabbing the plush-looking pink blanket off of the back of the couch and hiding yourself in it, when he finally pulled away. “Oh darling,” he began, giggles still seeping into his speech. “I don’t think you really ate anything before you left. Are you hungry? I have more food than just that terrible macaroni and cheese.”

Without waiting for an answer, he got to his feet. You watched as he crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen, and then you glanced around the apartment again. You weren’t really sure what to preoccupy yourself while he was preparing…whatever it was he had in mind for lunch. You thought about turning on the massive TV mounted on the wall, but couldn’t find a remote anywhere. You didn’t want to get up and explore either, since you didn’t want Mettaton to think you were nosy…so, you simply waited in silence, listening as you heard the sounds of the robot rummaging around in the kitchen. After a few moments, he reappeared, balancing a pristine white plate – that like everything else in his kitchen, looked as if it had never been used – on one hand.

He set it down in front of you. That was definitely more expected than the depressing pot of mac and cheese; a steak in the shape of his face. You tried to hide the fact that you’d crinkled your nose as soon as you’d saw it, and, feeling your belly rumble and your mouth begin to salivate, you quickly grabbed the fork and knife and cut off a piece, sliding it into your mouth and chewing slowly as the flavors began to spread over your tongue. Surprisingly, it was warm. He had been too quick to have cooked it on the stove or in the oven, and you hadn’t heard the sounds of the microwave, unless he had some sort of a silent one… “Hey, Mettaton? How’d you cook this thing so fast?” You asked as soon as you’d finished chewing and swallowing the first bite, before cutting off another piece. It might’ve been a little conceited, but it was definitely a perfect slice of meat.

“Why, darling, I simply just pulled it out of my refrigerator!” He told you, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You paused in chewing for a moment and glanced from him, down to the steak, and back, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. His expression didn’t falter; he kept that same pleasant smile on his face. It looked almost smug, as if he were happy to have found food that you’d liked. And you certainly did enjoy it, considering you were already almost halfway through the meat. “Perhaps this isn’t how it works in the human world, but underground a lot of monsters like to keep their fridges hot. Cold stuff is absolutely terrible. As soon as I got this apartment, I had Alphys come and fix the refrigerator so it would be warm.”

Oh. Well, that made more sense. You dipped your head in a nod, tearing off another chunk of the steak and eating it. You wondered if Mettaton had made it himself. It was a choice cut, seasoned and grilled to perfection, and you thought it might’ve been marinated in some sort of a teriyaki sauce before being cooked, given the way the flavors exploded whenever you bit into it. It took you a few minutes to finish off the rest of the steak. The robot watched you all the while, his head tilted slightly to one side as he observed you, almost as if he were fascinated with the way you chewed and then swallowed and it slid down to your stomach, satiating your hunger. Though you knew much of Mettaton’s internal anatomy – such as his digestive system – resembled a human’s, he didn’t ever get any sort of hungry urges that could be fixed with food. He merely ate _for the fun of it_ , as he always said.

When you were done, you placed the fork and knife back down onto the plate and grabbed the napkin – which was a genuine cloth napkin, like the ones used in fancy restaurants – and wiped your mouth off. Mettaton swooped in and took the dirty napkin from you as well as your plate and headed back into the kitchen. You figured he was placing them in the sink to be washed later. Afterwards, he came back out again and sat next to you again, as he’d been before. He beamed over at you, his eyes glowing brightly. “So,” he began, pulling out a notepad and a pen. You didn’t see where from, exactly, but pushed that thought to the side as he leaned in closer to you. “Have you got any ideas in that pretty little head of yours, gorgeous? What is it that you think the humans will enjoy?”

You blinked, lifting a hand to push him back a little bit. You and the robot were friends, but you tended to prefer your personal space. “Well,” you started, racking your brain for any sort of ideas the could spice up Mettaton’s shows. From your time on the underground guest starring on his television programs, you knew he favored _Drama, Romance, Bloodshed!_ There had been quite a fair share of that when he was playing the role of the malfunctioning robot bent on killing you…perhaps something like that could appeal to both monsters and humans?

“Well…you have your whole drama, romance, bloodshed thing that you’re always going for…why not toss a bit of that in again?” You knew it was an underdeveloped idea, considering you hadn’t actually given him any substantial advice other than a vague concept, but it was really all you could offer at the moment. He titled his head to one side, pen coming up to his lips as he let out a contemplative hmm. He seemed to be thinking about what you’d said, and frankly, you were surprised he seemed to think for so long. You hadn’t exactly said much.

“That’s a wonderful idea, darling!” He roared back to life with an exuberant smile, and hastily scrawled it down onto the notepad he was holding. “I love it…just like my shows in the underground! After all, humans and monsters aren’t so different, are they? All you want to do is see kissing and violence and things like that…” He trailed off as he began writing excitedly, and you knew he was writing down way more than the flimsy idea you had offered him. “Yes, it’s perfect…I think an action-packed romantic comedy would be suitable, don’t you think? And oh, there can be a love triangle, throw a bit of mystery in there…” You shifted around on the couch, letting out a sigh. It seemed as if Mettaton didn’t really need you there.

After only a little bit of prompting, he was spouting out ideas all on his own. You simply leaned back as he scribbled away, humming to himself, glancing around idly at his apartment. After a few minutes of him adding to his notes, punctuating new ideas with an “Ah!” or an “Ooh!”, he finally stopped writing, causing you to glance up from where you were closely examining the white rug.

He was smiling from ear-to-ear, an expectant look in his faintly glowing eyes. “Well, darling?” He prompted you, nudging the end of the pen into your side. “Don’t you have any more ideas? I have plenty of other shows to come up with ideas for, you know…”

 

With that, the two of you spent the afternoon coming up with ideas for his shows. Every time you would toss out a simple concept, he would immediately jot it down – with every minute detail he could possibly conjure up. By the time the robot had decided it was enough, night had fallen. You hadn’t even noticed it, but the sun had dipped behind the horizon and the room was dark. You glanced at your phone. It was only five o’clock, and you could already see the moon climbing into the sky. Winter was approaching fast.

You got to your feet and stretched languidly, your body tense from sitting for so long. “Oh my! I didn’t realize how late it was! I’m sorry, (y/n), I’ve been keeping you from dinner with Toriel, haven’t I?” Mettaton got to his feet as well, setting down the notepad and pen. A worried look crossed his features as he glanced at an analog clock resting on an end table.

You quickly pacified him. “Oh no, it’s fine, I’m sure! Toriel knew I was going to be spending the afternoon with you, and even though it’s dark, it’s not really night time yet…” You told him. “In fact, I doubt she’s even made dinner yet.” Nonetheless, you began heading over to the door. You stepped into your shoes and then pulled on your winter gear: your coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. Mettaton followed you to the door, though he didn’t seem to be very calmed by your words. “Honestly, Mettaton, it’s fine. I had fun.”

He had been nervously avoiding your gaze, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, but he brightened a bit at your words, offering you a small smile. He reached out and adjusted your scarf for you, tying it expertly into a fashionable style that you’d seen on the front of a magazine before. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a few moments before it dropped, and he murmured a quiet, “Thank you, dear. I had fun too.”

You had to fight to keep yourself from shivering under his touch – and were those hearts you’d seen flash in his eyes? After all, it was nearly impossible for the robot to be anything but candid with his emotions, considering they were always written very clearly in his eyes. However, just as quickly as they’d appeared, they’d vanished, leaving you to wonder if they’d actually been there or if they were just your imagination. “H-Haha,” you chuckled nervously, sidestepping out of his reach and towards the door, clearing your throat.

“So uh…anyways…I’ll be seeing you, I guess.” You told him with an awkward wave. You were beginning to feel a little warm, and you didn’t think it was just from the heavy winter clothing you were bundled up in. “M-Maybe you could stop by for dinner again sometime. You and Alphys,” you hastily tacked on the ending with more nervous laughter.

“Oh, haha, of course. I’d love to.” He told you, stepping forward to open the door for you. “Though, I don’t know if Toriel would take kindly to me there…she doesn’t seem to like me very much.” He shrugged the thought off, holding the door open. “But yes. We’ll definitely have to meet up again…in fact, I’ve got the greatest idea. I think it’d be beneficial to my ratings if we fought again, like down in the underground! Of course, we wouldn’t be fighting for _real_ and there would be no danger, but I bet it would keep the audience on the edge of their seats!”

You barely suppressed a groan at the thought of battling Mettaton again. Down in the underground, you’d done it merely because you had to – the idea of guest starring on a show where a robot honestly tries to kill you while he dances, loud music and flashing lights surrounding you wasn’t appealing, especially when there was the off-chance that your human friends could end up witnessing the sight. “I-I don’t know, Mettaton…once was enough, wasn’t it…?”

The look in the robot’s eyes told you that once was definitely not enough. He was pouting – and by pouting, you meant _pouting_ – and you weren’t exactly sure who told this robot how to pull a perfect puppy-dog look, but he was definitely doing it and it was definitely having an effect on you. You didn’t want to have to fight him again and risk making a fool of yourself on live television in front of not only the entire monster world, but the entire human world as well, but you didn’t want to disappoint him, either; not with that face.

“Look…Mettaton…I – “ He let out an actual full-blown whimper. His lip quivered. You couldn’t even stop the groan that escaped you this time. “Alright, alright, quit making that face. I’m not saying I’m gonna do it, but we can talk about it later, I guess. Wh – quit celebrating, I just said this doesn’t mean I’m going to do it!” But the robot ignored you and continued to pump his fist in the air and hum happily.

Finally, he settled down enough to hold the door steady for you again, and he smiled – though it was different this time. There was almost an air of superiority, a triumphant look at the fact that he’d merely gotten you to budge an inch if it meant pleasing him. “I know you’ll come around eventually, dear. You can’t resist me when I’m being charming, and the spotlight cannot resist you! Anyways, my limo is waiting for you in front of the hotel. Have a lovely night, (y/n).”

After bidding him the same and pushing aside the thought of the two of you fighting again, you left his apartment, though he stood in the doorway, watching as you pressed the button for the elevator. Naturally, with the building being so tall, you had to wait about half a minute before the elevator crawled all the way up to the top floor, and you spent it awkwardly tapping your foot against the linoleum floor, pretending to check your phone as you knew the robot behind you was watching.

When the doors finally opened, you breathed a sigh of relief, stepping inside and pressing the button for the lobby. Just as the doors were closing, you caught a glimpse of Mettaton smiling sweetly at you, waving from where he still stood in the doorway. You waved back, hoping that your face wasn’t as red as it felt. The doors finally shut and the elevator began to descend, and you breathed out another sigh that you didn’t know you’d been holding in. You didn’t know what that was about. You liked Mettaton, you really did. But something about the situation had felt…different and awkward. Not to mention the fact he wanted to fight you again, which was a whole other type of problem, though it was going to be just as persistent, if not more, if it was what Mettaton truly wanted to do.

You waved to Burgerpants who was still seated behind the front desk, his head buried in a magazine, before you exited the building, your breath billowing out in little white clouds in front of you. You were thankful to see that the chauffeur was waiting for you, the limo running. You didn’t know how he knew you were going to arrive then. You hadn’t seen Mettaton call his chauffeur or anything…

As you slipped inside of the warm vehicle and, having learned from last time, quickly shed your winter clothing, you shut your eyes, reaching up to rub your temples with your fingers.

You really hoped he wasn’t being serious about the whole fight thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one month later.........  
> i'm alive! i promise i'm not going to drop this. i'm just having a tough time finding both inspiration and time to write this story...  
> hopefully now i'll have more of both, with school letting out for a while (more time) and an idea that came to me that will help me figure out what direction i want this to go in.  
> here's to more frequent updates from now on!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton swings by your house for an unexpected visit; unfortunately, you know exactly why he's there.

Weeks had passed since the afternoon you’d gone to Mettaton’s apartment to help him come up with ideas for his shows. You hadn’t heard much from the robot since then, except for the occasional casual text to say hello or ask what you were up to. Sometimes, when you’d finished all your course work and had nothing better to do, you would tune into his shows to see if he’d incorporated any of the ideas the two of you had come up with. So far, you hadn’t seen any of them on television, which made you a little nervous. You wondered if Mettaton was still insistent on having you back on his show again, specifically to fight him like you had done in the underground. It wasn’t like you were worried about losing or getting hurt or anything like that; you just didn’t want to have to perform in such a way in front of potentially millions of human viewers. Down in the underground, it had been different. You had to defeat the robot in order to get to Asgore’s castle and to save your own life. Up on the surface, you had a choice, and your choice was to not participate in a battle like that again.

However, it seemed that if Mettaton got his way – and he almost always did – then you were going to be guest starring on his next TV special, dramatically posing and twisting and twirling under spotlights and showers of sparks to the beat of a heavy bassline in order to avoid a fake death.

Obviously, you were a little weary as to when the robot would pop into your life again, for something told you that the next time you saw him, it would be as you were preparing for your debut on human television. You always walked carefully when you stepped foot outside of your home, mainly only leaving the house to attend school. You were cautious when answering the door, instead leaving the deed to Toriel while you hid around the corner, listening in on her conversation to try and figure out who was at the door. Almost always it was Sans or Papyrus or Undyne – or even the occasional visit from a human neighbor or some type of door-to-door salesmen. Mettaton seemed to have completely forgotten about his idea to have you on his show, which pleased you. Knowing that you weren’t going to have to parade around on camera with a grin as goofy as his, dodging any and all attacks thrown at you anytime soon made you sigh with relief.

This is, until one Tuesday afternoon when a knock sounded at the door. You had been relaxing in Toriel’s large, comfortable arm chair after your day on campus and had just begun to doze off when it came, and given that the goat monster was still at work, claiming she would have to stay a little late that night to finish grading some papers, you were alone in the house, save for Flowey, who was currently sitting on the windowsill in your room. There was no one but you to answer the door. You could always just pretend there was no one home…but if it turned out to be Papyrus or Undyne you would definitely feel terrible about it later.

You got to your feet and stretched languidly, muscles a little stiff from sitting for so long. The plush blanket you had wrapped around your form fell into a heap at your feet. You picked it up and folded it, placing it on the arm chair as there was another knock at the door. Whoever it was, they were definitely impatient, which made you hope with all your might it was just Papyrus or a pushy salesmen trying to get you to invest in a vacuum cleaner. You opened the door.

“Hello, (y/n) darling!” You heard Mettaton before you saw him, and the sudden loud, booming voice startled you, especially considering the house had been dead silent before his arrival. You opened the door fully after recovering, and saw the robot bouncing excitedly in his place on your doorstep, an ecstatic smile on his face. Looking past him, you could see the obnoxiously pink limo idling along the curb in front of your house. A neighbor paused while walking their dog to gape at it, their jaw hanging open. _Oh boy._

“Long time, no see, sweetheart! How have you been?” He chirped in a friendly voice, slipping past you into the warm house and shutting the door behind himself, given that you were too stunned at his sudden appearance to react. You knew this was it. Today was the day. You were going to be on television. After scrambling for a few moments to mutter something out about doing fine, the robot let out a giddy peal of laughter, twirling around in your living room. “Fantastic! I’m so delighted I get to see you again, (y/n)! You and I are going to have so much fun tonight! You’re not busy, are you?” Luckily you weren’t, though you knew even if you were, Mettaton would find some way to drag you away from whatever it was you were doing.

“Uh…what exactly are we going to be doing, Mettaton?” You asked in a quiet voice, as the robot hooked an arm in yours and began marching you down the hallway toward you room. You had asked the question, even though you dreaded his response. “And why come over – so suddenly? Without any warning at all?” You would’ve expected the robot to at least drop you a line before showing up at your house like this, but here he was; uninvited, unannounced, and currently shoving you across the threshold to your room.

“I know it’s sudden and all, but I wanted to surprise you!” Mettaton answered gleefully from his place on the other side of the door. “And well…what we’re doing…it’s also a surprise!” You had to suppress your groan. “I’m just going to need you to change your outfit before we go. You can’t be seen in clothes like…that…where we’re going.” You had changed into sweats as soon as you’d gotten home. They were more comfortable to lounge around the house in.

Just as you were about to ask what kind of clothes he wanted you to wear, he placed a gloved finger to your lips. “Say no more! I know what you’re thinking! You need to pick out something...youthful. Classic. An old favorite.” His smile turned coy. Did he really want you to wear that ratty old sweater you’d fallen into the underground wearing? He winked at you – or at least you thought it was a wink, given that he only had one eye visible – before grabbing the door handle in one hand. “I think you know what I mean, darling. I’ll be waiting out here for you. And do hurry up, our ride is waiting.”

With that, he shut the door behind you, leaving you staring at the wood for a few moments, stunned. Everything had happened so fast…you didn’t think you would’ve even been able to object if you’d had the heart to, Mettaton didn’t let you get a word in edgewise! Swallowing thickly, you turned and headed over to your closet. As soon as you and Toriel had moved into the new house, you had tossed the old clothing to the back of it. Something about wearing that striped shirt for weeks on end while down there made it seem less appealing than it had been before.

As you were digging around in the closet, trying to find exactly where you’d thrown that _stupid goddamned shirt_ , you were startled by a sudden voice, which made you jolt up and nearly hit your head on the closet door.

“So…you’re just going to let that robot push you around like that, huh?”

Crap. You’d forgotten Flowey was in your room. You turned to see him watching you from his usual place on the windowsill, a smug grin on his face. You merely shot him a glare before turning back to rummage through the clothing in the closet. You didn’t know what to say to defend yourself, because truthfully, there wasn’t a way you could tell the robot no.

“Wow…even after all of this…after everything that went down in the underground…you’re still just a big wimpy pushover.” You grit your teeth at the flower’s words and for a moment you wondered if it would’ve been better just to leave him down in that dark hole with all of his bitterness, when your hands came into contact with a bit of familiar fabric.

“I’m not doing this because I can’t say no. I’m doing this because Mettaton’s my friend, and he asked me for my help. I’m going to help him. I’ve helped all my other friends out when they’ve needed it. Even you.” If the flower could’ve paled at your words, you knew he would’ve. His eyes widened as he watched you for a moment, digging out the shorts you had worn along with it. It was way too cold for them outside, but you knew Mettaton wouldn’t settle for anything other than the so-called _classic outfit_. You’d just have to put a pair of leggings on underneath it or something.

Flowey huffed from his spot on the windowsill. “Whatever.” He muttered. He didn’t try to correct you, which made you wonder if he felt as if he’d been helped by you in some way, even though he’d never admit it. It had to be better up here – where there was fresh air and sunlight and good food and company – than down in that dark hole.

You moved to pull the shirt you were wearing off. “Don’t look.” You told the flower.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Came his acidic reply, and you didn’t bother to turn around and check. You knew he’d turned back to the window to try and catch the last few warm rays of sunlight before the sun sank behind the horizon, much more satisfied with that than he ever would be with a human. You tossed the shirt you were wearing into your hamper and pulled the old striped one on. It smelled familiar, and the fabric was warm against your skin despite the fact it had been shoved into the back of the closet. You switched into the rest of the clothing that made up the old outfit, and once you were finished, said a quick goodbye to Flowey before exiting your room.

Mettaton was waiting for you in the living room. You hurried over to the door – after all, he’d said to hurry, didn’t he? – and stuffed your feet into your boots. You looked to the coat hanger to grab your winter coat, but found it gone. “Hey, my coat – “ You began, but didn’t finish, as you felt arms wrap around you from behind. Carefully, Mettaton slipped each of your arms into the sleeves of your coat, making sure it fit nicely around you. He came around to your front and knelt down, zipping it up for you with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

Once he had finished, he glanced up at you with a small smile. “There we are. Ready, sweetheart? The limo’s nice and warm.” He offered you his arm, and too stunned to reply, you merely nodded and slipped yours into his, allowing him to lead you out of the house and down the driveway to the limo. Thankfully, your neighbor had vanished, allowing you to make your way into the limo without any wide eyes fixed on you. It was warm, as Mettaton had told you, and you knew from experience to shed your coat as soon as you got inside.

The ride was silent. You wondered where exactly you were going, but you knew it wasn’t going to be to his apartment. You envisioned some sort of TV studio: a giant room decked out with stadium screens and loud speakers, spotlights and blasters that shot confetti all around. Once, Mettaton broke the silence to offer you a glass of some sort of fancy Peruvian sparkling water, which you turned down. If you were really going to be performing in front of a crowd of potentially millions, then you didn’t want to do it with anything in your stomach. You felt queasy enough just thinking about it.

Just as you’d thought, the limo did not take you to Mettaton’s home. In fact, you were fairly certain it was taking you in the opposite direction. Swallowing thickly, you leaned back in your seat, staring out the window as you waited for the ride to pass. The robot next to you was bouncing his leg, almost impatiently. It struck you as odd that a robot would be so fidgety, but you didn’t say anything, instead opting to turn your head away and close your eyes.

“Time to wake up, sweetheart. We’re here,” the robot’s gentle coo sounded in your ear, rousing you from sleep. You immediately let out a yawn, stretching your arms as well as you could while still buckled into the seat. Chuckles drifted from somewhere beside you, though they were really more of giggles. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” He murmured into your ear, reaching over to undo the buckle. If you had been fully awake and aware, you definitely would’ve been confused by that comment, but you were not quite awake yet, and therefore unable to process what had been said and it was merely brushed off. Gently, he began to coax you up. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you wondered how long you’d been out for, considering you had no idea where the two of you were. Looking out of the limousine’s window, you were greeted by the sight of a giant looming building that looked akin to a warehouse. You didn’t want to know what it was, but you definitely did, and you felt your stomach sinking the more you stared at it. It was in there you were going to be fighting Mettaton again.

Groggily, you lifted your head up slightly to come face-to-face with the robot, who was smiling as exuberantly as ever at you. You thought even someone as oblivious as him might have picked up on your discomfort by now, but if he had, he was merely ignoring it. “Mettaton,” you groaned out a little too angrily, for you felt a little terrible when you saw his face immediately fall at the note in your face. “I know where we are and I know why we’re here…but please, please, _please_ , just lie to me and tell me I’m not going to be on TV today.”

There was silence between the two of you for a minute. Mettaton’s expression had turned a bit sheepish as he flashed you a nervous smile. “Well…I…I truly think you’re going to have a lot of fun with it, (y/n).” You didn’t even attempt to suppress your groan. He couldn’t even muster up the nerve to lie to you; or maybe he just didn’t care enough to. “Look…I know it probably isn’t your idea of a great time, but…I really do think you’ll enjoy it, if you just go into it with an open mind!” At your withering look, the robot let out a mechanical sigh.

“I know I haven’t really…been fair about dragging you into this, darling. I just grabbed you and tugged you along here without telling you where we were going or what we were doing…I shoved you into those ratty old clothes…and I never even asked you what you were thinking.” You had turned to stare moodily out the window, pointedly avoiding Mettaton’s gaze. He was absolutely right; his behavior as of recent towards you had been more annoyingly demeaning and oblivious to your mood than usual, and his insistence that you participate in one of his shows had pushed you over the edge. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. I wish you’d enjoy this as much as I do, then it would be fun for the both of us!”

“You were built to enjoy this kind of thing, Mettaton.” You retorted icily, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the window as you spoke to him. You were idly breathing on the cold glass, drawing little shapes and patterns in the steam that appeared there before it got the chance to dissipate. “Of course you’d like it. It’s in your programming. But I’m a human. And…we’re a little more complicated than that.”

After that, Mettaton strangely seemed to want to be like you as he fell into a stony silence. If you concentrated, you could see his reflection in the window. His expression confused you the most. He looked almost…hurt. You knew he didn’t like being referred to as a mere robot, but that was what he was, wasn’t he? He couldn’t deny that. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were watching him, but finally, he turned to stare out the opposite window, an arm lifting to carefully rest his chin in the palm of his hand. “(Y/n)…” He murmured, his voice so soft, you strained to hear it. “I haven’t been fair to you. I know it – “

You cut him off. “If you know that you’re being unfair, then why do you keep on being unfair?”

That shut him right up. You had finally turned to look at him and found him staring straight at you, his handsome features contorted in shock. You felt bad for snapping at him, you really did, especially with the whole kicked-puppy-dog look he was giving you now, but you had said nothing but the truth. “I…I’m sorry, (y/n). I really am. I…I just…”

His eyes met yours and you could see that there was true emotion within their glittering depths; he truly did feel sorry. Hell, he was even at a loss for words like you’d never seen him before. The charismatic and charming robot before you was choking on his words, teeth digging into his lower lip as he flashed you a nervous smile. “I’m really worried.” He said finally. “My newscast was cancelled. The ratings on all of my other shows aren’t anything to rave over. They’re falling as we speak, of course…the humans aren’t interested in me anymore. They’ve seen what I can do, and now they’ve moved on. I need…something to spice it up again. And this is what’s going to do it! I’m sure!”

“Don’t you remember down in the underground? When you and I fought on my show, the ratings were incredible! I’d never seen them so high before…and that was all because of you and I, (y/n). This is the drama, the romance, the bloodshed that everyone wants to see! Humans and monsters alike – they want to see this, to see us. They’d…they’d really love it.”

His voice trailed off into a quiet murmur. The robot before you smiled fondly, a faraway look in his eye as he was reminiscing at the memories of your fight together down in the underground. That was probably one of the craziest things you’d ever done, considering that all your other fights with monsters consisted of you fighting to either avoid capture or certain death, but Mettaton didn’t even really have much of a desire to kill you; at least, it wasn’t as big as his desire to entertain and gain viewers. “You…you really think they want to see this, huh?” You asked him, swallowing hard. You couldn’t believe you were even considering this, going up there on that stage with him. You should’ve just put your foot down and told him no.

But the soft glow in his eyes and the gentle curve of his smile was all too tempting to give in to. Delicately, as if he were afraid you would break, Mettaton reached forward to take hold of your hands, lacing your fingers with his. You tried to stifle any hints of shock at the sudden gesture, hoping he hadn’t noticed your reddening cheeks. He murmured, “Darling…I _know_ they do. They’ll love us…” In a softer voice, punctuated by a particularly sweet smile, he added, “They’ll love you.”

You sighed: long and heavy. Part of you wanted to give into him. Just the way his eyes studied your every move confirmed that he really wanted this from you. You shifted in your seat, made a little uncomfortable by his gaze. He didn’t get the hint to avert his eyes. However, the other part of you wanted to turn him down. Even if the experience wasn’t going to be that painful, you had the strange suspicion that something bad was going to come out of it…like Toriel recognizing you on TV and getting upset with you, or going to class the next day to your classmates laughing and pointing at you. You didn’t know what to do.

“(Y/n), I know I haven’t done much for you and you’ve done so much for me, but I promise – after we finish the show, I’ll take you out to dinner.” He smiled at you, a genuine smile. You could tell he wasn’t lying to you. “Anywhere you’d like! As long as it isn’t some sleazy fast food place, that is. And you can order anything you want! All my treat!” He paused for a moment, his smile faltering as he began to look a bit sheepish again. “It isn’t much…but…it’s a start, right?”

Still, you remained silent, unable to answer him even with a nod of your head or a shrug. You were still afraid to commit to this, that feeling in your gut that something terrible was going to come out of it remained. Again, you shifted around awkwardly in your seat, but didn’t drop his hands. His thumbs were drawing idle circles on your skin and there was hope evident on his face. You averted your eyes from the sight, your mouth feeling so dry that you were unsure if you’d be able to answer him, even if you had something to say.

“Your silence is a little unnerving, sweetheart,” the robot chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. You hastily muttered out a quiet apology, which sounded croaky coming from your dry throat, which you were certain only served to dampen the atmosphere again. He stared at you for a long moment. You felt awkward looking into his eyes, so instead you kept your gaze focused on his glossy metal chassis. His thumbs didn’t stop their idle caresses of your own hands. “Alright…I’ll tell you what. I know you don’t want to do this, so…you don’t have to. If you really, truly don’t want to be on my show, then I’ll take you home now.”

You brightened instantly. Your eyes flew to his face to search for any sign of joking, but found none; only an impassive expression that didn’t do anything to convey his mood. In his eyes, however, you thought you might’ve seen a slightly doleful look – but it flickered into apathy as soon as you’d caught sight of it. But the choice remained. You could say no. You could deny the opportunity and he would take you back home, as he’d told you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about this ever again.

“Although…” He chuckled, and it sounded almost a bit sad to you, which tugged at your heartstrings. Could you really say no to him? It was almost like saying no to a hopeful child. “I really wanted to do this with you, beautiful. It was so much fun the first time…I’d never had fun filming a show like that before.” He laughed again, and you were both relieved and a little weary to find that it was back to its normal, breathless tone. “And I believe this would’ve been the event that could’ve saved my ratings. But…if you don’t want to do it, I understand.”

He gave you a choice, but jeez, he sure was making it hard for you to determine which was the right one.

“Just know that…well…it would mean the world to me if you did this with me.”

You held back a groan. Did he know he was guilt-tripping you into doing this? Was he doing it on purpose? Your eyes searched his face for any signs of guile, but found none; only his usual gentle smile and the soft look in his eyes that seemed so sincere. You wondered what would happen if you still said no. Would he be hurt? Offended? Would you two be able to remain friends afterwards, or would it sour your relations?

You were more unsure than ever. Your gut feeling was telling you this wasn’t a good idea, but the way his thumbs were still drawing circles on your skin made you melt a little. Could one little performance really be that bad? After all, if his ratings _were_ doing as bad as he made it sound, then you doubted this showing would get any more ratings that his usual episodes. Maybe no one would even see it. Maybe the only people who’d ever experience it would be you and Mettaton.

That wasn’t such a terrible thought. Besides, it wasn’t like there was going to be any real danger. You hadn’t gotten too badly hurt down in the underground when he was fighting to kill you, and here, the two of you were great friends. He was likely going to be pulling his punches, if he even used real attacks at all. What was the shame in reenacting an old battle? Middle age people did it all the time with major wars and historical events!

…okay, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy you could’ve used, but the fact still remained that there were evident pros and cons to the situation. You could say no and then you’d get out of it, but that might danger your relationship with the robot. On the other hand, you could say yes and risk facing embarrassment at people seeing you on TV, but you’d make him so happy, and get a free dinner out of it. The thought of a free dinner alone was tempting, considering that you had no idea if Toriel would be back from work in time to cook it.

Finally, you’d made up your mind. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You gave a gentle squeeze back to the hands that held yours, and shrugged your shoulders, mumbling out an, “Okay.”

Mettaton cocked his head at you. His expression had turned confused at your meager one-word reply, but there was still hope in his eyes. “Okay…what? Okay to going home? Or okay to doing it with me?” He spoke quickly. You knew if he had a heart – a _functioning_ one, the one on his belt didn’t count – then it’d be pounding.

Again, you merely shrugged. “Okay to…to doing it with you.”

Immediately, you found yourself swept up in Mettaton’s arms and pulled against his chest, practically into his lap. His mirthful laughter was the only thing you heard, a bit harsh to your ears as your head was pressed directly against the speaker on his chest. His fingers combed through your hair, and it was just then, you realized, cradled against him, how much your participation really meant to him. “Ah, I knew you would come around darling! You and I are going to have so much fun together! It’s going to be just like when we were back in the underground! Everyone’s going to love us!”

He continued to rave excitedly, practically to himself, as he continued to hold you against him. You simply let it happen, reaching up to idly pat him on the shoulder. He seemed so excited now that he knew you were going to do this with him, it was a little infectious. You began to smile yourself and laugh along with him. Maybe it really was going to be fun. It was only acting, after all. You could do that, right?

It wasn’t until a few moments after his arms loosened around you that you noticed all of his excited laughter had ceased. You brought your eyes up to his face, questioningly, and were a little startled by just how much affection his gaze held – and there were those little hearts flashing in his eyes again, but they vanished so quickly it left you wondering if you’d just imagined them. There were a few seconds of silence passed between you, before he broke it with a soft chuckle.

“I know this was a hard decision for you to make, sweetheart. Thank you for doing this to me…I can’t even express to you how much this means to me,” his grin was radiant as he pulled you into another hug, and before you knew it, you found your arms around him as well. Of course, his shows seemed to really be the only thing that mattered to him…after all, he wasn’t as close to your group of friends. In fact, some of them thought of him as merely an egotistical fame monger – specifically Toriel and Undyne thought this; Papyrus absolutely adored the robot – so it made sense to you that they would mean everything to him. After all, what was a robot built to entertain to do without an audience?

“Now, we have to go in there and start getting ready. You’re already in your clothes, but you’re going to need to be sent to hair and makeup. And I still have a few things that need to be finalized to make sure this goes off without a hitch…” Gently, Mettaton set you down on the limousine seat and zipped you back up in your coat. You weren’t really paying attention to what was happening, since your mind was still focused on the fact that you had to be sent to hair and makeup.

He opened the door and offered a hand to pull you out, and led you in by that same arm. Inside, the warehouse was warm, and there were numerous people dressed in black running to-and-fro, most with some sort of headset in their ears. When one of them saw the door swing open, he immediately yelled, “It’s Mr. Mettaton!” And all of them began flocking over to the robot like moths drawn to a flame, some of them even bowing in his presence.

“Now now,” Mettaton chided them, half-shielding you from their assault with his own body. He removed your coat and tossed it into the hands of a worker who had been trying to get it off of you and they rushed to put it away. “We’ve got a show to put on, everyone, so let’s all get to work. I want the fog machines recalibrated and a copy of the lighting cues. Also, this little beauty needs to be escorted to hair and makeup before the show starts. Will you do that?”

He pointed to a peppy, young looking blonde. She didn’t even seem much older than you. She nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing and her red painted lips curving into a smile. Immediately she headed over to you and grabbed onto your hand, leading you away from the crowd of people that had gathered.

“Alright darling! Don’t become more beautiful than me! I will see you in a few!” Mettaton called after you, waving before he disappeared within the crowd of black shirts and clipboards. The girl ushering you made sure you kept moving quickly, not allowing you to stop and get distracted by all of the complicated equipment you saw – different stage pieces being moved about, giant speakers being rolled onto the floor, etc. – though she didn’t tug you along harshly.

As soon as you reached your destination, you were sat into a chair – that actually had the name Mettaton written on back in a fancy font – in front of a lighted mirror, just like in all of those clichéd Hollywood movies. You glanced down. The table in front of you was covered in makeup; brushes and eyeliners and concealers and way too many sparkles. The stylist approached you and began combing through your hair, letting out a contemplative _hmm_ as they were deciding what to do with you. Suddenly, you were unsure about exactly what you’d agreed to all over again.

Okay, so maybe you were kind of a pushover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [changed the name of this story! 'his dream' was a title i came up with really quickly just to title this thing so i could get to putting everything on here, and i think this title suits it much better. it comes from mandopony's song with a title of the same name. check it out here! (its really good): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru-x3CFQ97E]
> 
> so...about more frequent updates...yeah that was kinda funny wasn't it?  
> unfortunately during winter break one punch man overtook my life and then COlLEGE APPS HOOOO BOY but now i'm back! i started another pacifist playthrough of undertale and fell in love with mettaton all over again, and now i have even more of an idea of where i want this to go!  
> sorry for making anyone who actually reads this wait so long for this chapter, but big plot stuff is coming up soon!
> 
> also, if anyone wants to contact me on tumblr to talk about undertale or push me to write another chapter (please do this sometimes i forget to even try to write) or anything else, my tumblr username is the same as ao3 (magicalxn). i post art there sometimes too (of mettaton usually) so yeah???
> 
> if you read this whole note then i love you! but yeah. thank you for reading and i'm sorry i'm such an ass i'll try to update faster (❀•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're preparing for your debut on Mettaton's TV show, but every step of the way you find yourself questioning your decision.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you were kind of regretting your decision to make an appearance on Mettaton’s show. Despite the fact that he’d left you with a cheery chirp of, “See you in a few!”, leading you to think it’d be around fifteen minutes of taming your hair and applying and little bit of concealer to hide the dark circles under your eyes, the process of applying makeup and doing your hair took actually took well over an hour, which made you wonder if the robot’s perception of time was seriously warped or something. Or maybe he just didn’t understand how long these things took, if he didn’t really need a makeup artist. Did robots wear makeup? Why would he even have a makeup artist if he didn’t use them? The questions were endless and confusing, but could be pushed off to a later date as you prepared for your television debut.

You winced as the stylist dragged the brush through your hair, trying to convince it to lie a certain way, but with little success. They huffed in annoyance, setting down the brush and muttering something under their breath before reaching to grab another dollop of hair gel. As they smoothed it into your locks to try and tame them, you stared at your new face in the mirror. You hardly recognized the person looking back at you; the stylist had slathered your face with so much makeup. As soon as you’d sat in the chair, they’d immediately gone to work on you, smearing your face with foundation and concealer and patting shadows onto your lids, trying to find the right color that would suit you.

It wasn’t as if you had no experience with makeup, but you really hardly ever wore it, considering you didn’t have anyone you wanted to impress. It was a hassle to get up in the morning to do that kind of thing before school, so you simply didn’t. Besides, you thought you looked fine without it. But here, they put so much of it onto your face that you felt as if you may sweat the three pounds of foundation and bronzer straight off. For someone who normally only wore light makeup on rare occasions…it was a little jarring, to say the least.

Finally, after about fifteen more minutes of adjusting your hair, the stylist stood aside for a moment to look at you. They rotated your chin this way and that, moving around you as they examined your face and hair under different angles of light. Their look in the mirror was appraising, but after yet another few minutes of final touches – mostly stuff that you’d accidentally smudged while reaching up to touch your own face, in awe of your new appearance – they smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Alright. All done. What do you think?”

You turned back to your reflection in the mirror. This new you wasn’t…unattractive, by any means, but you didn’t really think it was _you_. Maybe Toriel and your classmates wouldn’t even recognize you if they saw you on TV. Taking your shrug and nod as a response, the stylist grinned and headed off to the side. You didn’t turn to see where they were going, as you were still focused on examining your face, but heard their voice. “Alright sir, they’re all done. You can come in now.”

The only person you could think that they would call sir would be Mettaton. Was he waiting for you this whole time? No, he said he had things to do, but…he’d definitely been waiting for you. How long had he been out there? Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud squeal of excitement. Just as you were turning around to face who you thought was Mettaton, you found yourself being turned and pulled out of your chair and to your feet. The robot stood in front of you, his eyes wide as he looked at you from up and down, studying your appearance.

Finally, he broke off into a huge grin, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You look gorgeous, (y/n)! I thought I told you not to become more beautiful than me! Are you trying to steal my spotlight?” You answered him with a nervous chuckle of your own, running a hand through your new hairstyle – though gently, as so not to mess up the work that the stylist had done. Mettaton turned to his employee. “You did a great job on them, darling. I knew I could trust you with someone as dear as (y/n). Is it my turn yet?” When the stylist nodded, the robot took his place in the chair. “Alright. I’ll be out in a few, sweetheart. You can wait out there if you’d like.” He shooed you away with a casual wave of his hand. Part of you wanted to stay and see what would be done to him exactly, but you knew better than to stand there for an hour or two and watch the stylist work, so you left the two of them.

You waited around for about two minutes outside of the room they were in, idly standing around with nothing better to do or anywhere to go. There were people bustling around you, but none of them spared you a glance – until one, that is, stopped when they saw you, dressed casually and with a full face of makeup, unlike any of them. “Excuse me, um…are you (y/n) by chance?” You were unsure how to respond for a moment, mainly because you were confused as to how they might have known your name, but then you simply nodded.

Their eyes widened considerably, and for a second, you thought you could see fear flash within their depths, before they spoke rapidly in the headset they were wearing, almost too rapidly for you to tell what they were saying. You caught something about Mettaton and a special gust, but they’d already turned away from you before you could hear the rest of what they were saying. All you knew was one moment you were standing, and the next a chair had been brought over to you – and not just a metal foldable chair or an office chair, but a soft, cushioned chair – and you were being urged to sit in it.

You complied easily, since you didn’t know how long you’d have to be standing out there. If how long it took getting your makeup done was any indicator, then you were certain a glambot obsessed with perfection such as Mettaton would take at least double your time, if not more. You were glad in fact, to have a chair to sit down in while you waited. A few minutes had passed before another stagehand had come by and offered you some type of sparkling water (and jeez, what the hell was with these upper class types and sparkling water?!) and asked if you needed anything, but you declined. It felt kind of awkward to be waited on them like that, and you wondered exactly what Mettaton had told them, or had possibly even threatened them with.

It took around ten minutes of idle waiting and watching as the stagehands, all dressed in black, moved around you, barking out orders or questions to others, some literally sprinting across the warehouse, some dragging along with looked like heavy equipment. You couldn’t help but wonder if all TV shows were this hectic, or if it was just Mettaton’s. Once every three minutes or so, one of the passing workers would stop by you to ask with a smile if you were alright, if you needed anything, etc. Once again, they all had the same exact look in their eyes that denoted an intense, hidden fear, though at what, you could not pinpoint. You didn’t think you were a particularly intimidating person…but maybe Mettaton had told them otherwise?

You were still confused as to why he would say something like that about you when the door next to you swung open. Mettaton stepped out of it, way earlier than you’d expected to, and you immediately got to your feet. “Wow. Done already?” You asked him, looking him up and down, trying to detect any differences on his body. It looked as if maybe he’d gotten a fresh coat of polish…but that was really the only difference you could see. Everything else looked more or less the same. A little awkwardly, you asked, “Uh, what exactly did they do to you in there? Doesn’t really look any different.”

You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but given that he merely laughed and pulled you in close, you doubted that you had. “Don’t you see it, darling? They touched up my eyeliner!” You supposed his eyeliner looked a bit darker, a bit sharper. You wondered if it was done with actual eyeliner or just paint, but you’d never really been close enough to him to be able to tell the difference. “They also fixed up my hair…added some polish and glitter…” You’d been right about the polish, but you couldn’t see a difference in his hair. It was always combed into its usual immaculate style, so it didn’t look like there was anything out of the ordinary. However, you could see a light sheen of pink glitter on his face, which was a noticeable change.

“Uh…did they also spray you with perfume or something…?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose a bit. The smell of expensive perfume on metal had completely overwhelmed you, especially since he was still holding you so close. The robot had never smelled like this before, and you’d been in close enough proximity to him on multiple occasions to be able to smell him. While the perfume wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, there was an overwhelming amount of it on – which confused you. Why would he opt for perfume when he was going to be performing on TV? It wasn’t like his audience as going to be able to smell him through their screens or anything…

“Oh, of course they did, darling! I couldn’t go out there smelling like I did!” Part of you wanted to ask him exactly what he supposedly smelled like (because as far as you’d noted, he didn’t smell like anything, except for faint hints of metal) but you held your tongue, for he continued to talk. “Do you like it? It’s a little something you humans call _Chanel No. 5_! A very popular brand, so I’ve come to understand!”

Of course, Mettaton would only want the best when he went up to the surface, which was evident in his choice of a very expensive and very stylized high rise apartment for living and a hot pink sparkly limo for transportation. You just didn’t think he would splurge for something like perfume; after all, what would he be using it for? “This one in fact, is limited edition. It’s _Chanel No. 5, Grand Extrait_.” The French rolled off of his tongue effortlessly, almost as if he’d been a native speaker for years. You didn’t know where he’d learned to imitate the accent so perfectly like that, almost as if it were authentic. Momentarily you wondered if he had some sort of software built into him that was akin to Google Translate, though with a smile at the thought, you brushed it aside. “It even comes in a handcrafted crystal bottle.”

“Wow,” you told him, though your tone was devoid of enthusiasm. You didn’t really understand all the fuss with a little bottle of perfume, especially with a brand like _Chanel_ , which you were pretty sure was the same as any other perfume really, just with a $100 label on it. It didn’t even smell particularly special; just distinctly floral, with a bit of underlying musk. “Sounds expensive…but I never really understood why the stuff was so popular. Smells like any other perfume, to be honest.”

Mettaton laughed; a light, airy, mirthful sound. Though he had long since let go of you, he was still standing close by and the smell of the perfume was still engulfing you, a constant reminder that the robot preferred the finer things in life, whether or not he really needed them or not. “I told you, it’s _Grand Extrait_. Limited edition. $15,000 a bottle.”

If it wasn’t attached to your body, your jaw would’ve quite literally dropped to the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Mettaton,” you breathed. “$15,000? Why the hell would you buy a $15,000 bottle of perfume? You don’t even wear perfume!” If it was hard to comprehend why anyone would want a $100 bottle of perfume, it was downright incomprehensible to you that someone would buy a little jar of sickly-sweet smelling liquid for that kind of price – which you were pretty sure was more money you’d ever seen in your life.

“But the bottle’s really pretty! And it smells nice!” Mettaton’s gentle smile only made you roll your eyes. It was almost like he didn’t even understand human money, and how he shouldn’t just throw away a small fortune on perfume, especially when his shows ratings weren’t doing all that good. “And I do wear perfume! Sometimes! Whenever I start smelling bad, I always spray some on.”

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head at that one. “Mettaton,” you groaned, reaching up to rub at your temples in frustration. “You’re a robot. You don’t need perfume. You never smell bad; you smell like metal.”

“Metal and ozone!” The robot broke in with an irritated huff. “And not like, clean metal either. It’s like the way your human money smells…dirty and disgusting. And have you ever smelled an ozone smell before, (y/n)? Because it isn’t pleasant. There is still a lot of work that Alphys needs to complete on this body, and that’s one of the things I’m still unsatisfied with…”

You weren’t going to comment on his sudden shift in attitude and instead let out a sigh. “Yes Mettaton, I have smelled ozone before. You seem so keen to bring up all of our battling down in the underground, but you’re forgetting I had to go all the way through to get to you. The CORE reeked of it, and you don’t smell like that. You don’t really smell like anything at all, and since recently I’ve been around you a lot then I think I would know exactly what you smell like.” You finished your statement with an affirmative nod.

Mettaton’s expression had morphed into one of slight shock, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open a bit. He shut it quickly with a click, but he continued to stare at you, a little dumbfounded. You thought you could see the slightest bit of pink dusting his cheeks – but figured that maybe it was just blush that the makeup artist had put on that you hadn’t noticed until now. After all, it was probably impossible for a robot to blush. “Well I…thank you darling, that’s very kind of you to say.” His expression was now soft, his smile sincere. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished. “But! You’ve just reminded me. We have a show to do! Come on, we have to get ready!”

With that, the moment was over and he’d grabbed onto your wrist and was dragging you through the studio. You passed many of the people who were working, watching as they diligently ran back and forth, some shouting orders at others, carrying stage equipment all around the warehouse. He didn’t stop dragging you until you reached what seemed to be, to your horror, a stage. You were thankful that when your eyes fell down to the rows of seats below you, there were no humans or monsters staring back at you. It wasn’t going to be a performance in front of a live audience, which made you feel a little better about the whole situation.

“You!” Mettaton called out suddenly, and even though his tone wasn’t harsh or grating, but rather quite pleasant, you jumped a bit at the sound of his loud voice. The stagehand he’d pointed at reacted just like you – except they jumped about a foot in the air and trembled as his finger fell upon them. There as a glimmer of something in their eyes that made you wonder what Mettaton was like when you weren’t in the studio, for any worker that seemed to be addressed specifically by the robot looked as if they might pee their pants. “I thought I told you to have it ready! Where is it?”

Again, Mettaton’s tone was nothing but cheerful and sweet, but this time as you paid closer attention and observed his face, you thought you could see aggravation flash across his features for a mere second; the corner of his lips falling into a frown and curling in disgust, his brow furrowing, his eyes darkening a shade. Looking terrified, the stagehand apologized profusely and bowed – literally bowed to the pair of you, until their upper body was parallel with the floor – and hurriedly rushed away to get whatever it was the robot wanted. Though he was never anything but pleasant to you…you wondered if Burgerpants’s words were true, and Mettaton actually _was_ a horrible boss.

A few moments later and the stagehand as running as fast as their legs could carry them, and they skidded to a stop before the robot and held out something wrapped in brown paper. “Thank you, dear,” his smile was courteous, but this time you swore you could even hear the biting edge in Mettaton’s tone quite clearly as he reached out to take the item from them. He turned to you and carefully unwrapped it, and placed in your hands what looked to be exactly like the old phone you’d used down in the underground. You remembered that it had been almost like a faithful companion when you were traversing Hotland and the CORE, as your guide, Alphys, and everything you seemed to need happened to be right at your fingertips with the device.

Of course, it only happened to be so helpful because as it turned out, Alphys had been orchestrating your adventure the entire time, but still; it had given you comfort throughout your entire journey through the underground.

As soon as you’d hit the surface, you ditched the old thing for the latest iPhone – because despite all of the comfort and security it had brought you below the surface, up above it was still just a clunky old dinosaur of a phone with a few modifications slapped onto it – and you had tossed the thing into the trash. You weren’t sure how the robot had managed to find it again. The image of Mettaton digging through your trash left your mind as quickly as it had flashed into it. There was no way he would’ve stooped as low as to rummage around in your garbage, but the longer you thought about it, the faces of two very excitable and very big fans of Mettaton – two monsters who wouldn’t have any qualms about digging through the garbage to find something the robot asked of them – drifted into your mind.

“Look familiar?” He asked. You didn’t have to turn to him to see his smirk, as it was evident in his voice. “I wasn’t sure if you threw that old thing away or not, and I wasn’t going to go digging through your garbage, so I simply had Dr. Alphys make an exact replica for our show! After all, your phone was so pivotal during our original battle – without it, you’d be defenseless!”

The way he said it so cheerfully sent a shiver down your spine, but you refrained from showing that his words had affected you and simply nodded to him, turning it over in your hands and examining it. It looked exactly like you remembered it; upon swiping around on the screen a bit, you also noted it had all the same features, including its own ACT menu and the old UnderNet app that Alphys had signed you up for. You smiled at the font memories. Of course, monsters had migrated over to the much more popular Twitter as soon as they’d hit the surface, but it was still nice to reminisce.

In your phone’s ACT menu was the same yellow option, which you knew made your heart-shaped soul flip around and shoot. You wondered briefly just how authentic Mettaton wanted to make this performance when you happened to really glance at your surroundings and take in all the details of the stage.

Below you, the floor gleamed and sparkled under the harsh white spotlights, polished so thoroughly that you could see your strangely made-up reflection blinking back at you. The tiles were painted the same color of pale pink. Allowing your eyes to drift behind the pair of you, you noted that the curtains were the same rich purple that looked to be made of smooth velvet, complete with the exact same gold trimming. The screen positioned slightly off to the left – the same exact position that it had been – even showed the same old ratings meter you were familiar with, albeit the show had not begun yet, so the ratings read zero.

The whole place was creeping you out and giving you such a strong sense of déjà vu. You swallowed hard as you nervously scrolled through the menu on the phone, trying to appear busy. You knew Mettaton wanted to do this show because he thought it would bring back his ratings, but to replicate all the details, down to the clothing you wore and the design of the stage? It was a little creepy, and it seemed like he was being a little obsessive with just how much thought and effort he’d put into this episode of his show. Looking out to where the audience would’ve been sitting had you had one, you saw a lone camera pointed at you two.

“Anyways,” Mettaton broke the silence and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you about ready to go yet? We’re going to be broadcasting live in five. I’m sure you don’t need Alphys to run the basics of fighting me by you again. After all, you did so well the first time.” He flashed you a fond smile and began to walk to the back of the stage. You didn’t know if you were supposed to follow him, so you instead called out.

“U-Uh, wait about…fighting. There’s not going to be any actual fighting, is there? Like, you’re not going to actually…try to kill me, are you?” _Like the first time_ , you finished mentally, because it seemed that so far, everything the robot had done had been to make this show just like the first time. As much as you knew you could take him on again, you didn’t want to have to throw yourself from side to side just to avoid taking any hits that might end you up in a hospital. After all, you didn’t have any items with you currently, so healing wasn’t much of an option.

Mettaton turned back to you and snorted. “Of course not! This is going to be totally, 100%, completely safe! I mean, I’m going to do a few fake hits of course, but I’ll be pulling my punches! You won’t have to worry about getting hit by me. Just try to stand still and _pretend_ you’re dodging, but don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be doing all the work.” He grinned over at you. “But I mean, if you’d like to hit me with a good punch, I certainly wouldn’t be complaining.” His grin widened and somehow seemed to look more sinister – and he tossed a wink at you.

Your face had heated up considerably at that so you quickly hung your head to hide it, mostly because you weren’t sure if you knew what he meant by that – and if your assumption was correct, then you really wished you didn’t. After he waved you over, you hurriedly followed him as he strolled to the back of the stage. A stagehand called out a warning time of “Two minutes!” and once you two had walked behind the curtains, they were drawn closed.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that you really had no idea what you were supposed to say or do. If he wanted you to do exactly what you’d done while in the underground, then you were at a loss, because you definitely couldn’t remember that far back. “Uh, Mettaton? I know this is kind of last minute, but do you have like, a script for me to follow or something? I don’t really know what I’m…supposed to be doing.” Your voice came out more sheepish than you wanted it to; probably because it was slowly becoming a reality as the seconds to your television debut ticked down: you were going to be on live TV for everyone to watch.

Mettaton turned to you, his head tilted to one side. For a few seconds, he didn’t answer you, but only held your gaze, almost as if questioning you. As the same stagehand gave the command that it was one minute till show time, the robot smiled at you fondly, and reached up to pat you on the head. “Oh my darling (y/n),” he sighed so sweetly, it was practically a coo. “A script…haha. How cute.” He shook his head as if in disbelief and his hand fell back down to his side and the call for 30 seconds was given.

“I don’t ever act with scripts, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again!! we got a chapter a month later and this one?? wasn't even really that long and/or good! in fact i was gonna combine it with the chapter that's coming next, but then i figured it may be too long in length/too long of a wait, so here is this one anyways


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for your television debut has finally arrived, but things don’t exactly go as expected.

The TV show had commenced with a loud buzzer. It startled you, making you jump and your stomach drop to your knees in fear, but you tried to remain calm, telling yourself that you were behind the curtain and the camera wasn’t focused on you yet. Something in the air seemed to change as the buzzer went off; all of the stagehands vanished, the air became heavier and almost electrified, and you felt a fresh wave of anxiety at the thought that just behind that curtain, a live TV show was being shot. There was an announcer that went on before the two of you, telling your no doubt huge audience what they had just tuned in to, though the exact specifics of what they were saying you did not know, for you could not hear their voice over your suddenly labored breathing and the pounding of blood in your ears.

You must’ve been looking a little bothered, because Mettaton placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, mouthing a “Relax,” towards you before he let it fall back to his side. You didn’t know if you’d ever been so terrified in your life as you were in that moment. Your hands were shaking slightly, and you were worried that they would become so sweaty that you would drop the phone you’d so coveted down in the underground. You could feel sweat already beading on your forehead, and prayed that the makeup the stylist had put on you wouldn’t melt off.

If it weren’t for Mettaton’s calming, reassuring presence next to you, you figured you would’ve already dashed off of the stage and to safety. You heard the announcer shouting excitedly and a roar of applause, which you knew had to be pre-recorded, unless they’d managed to sneak an entire audience into the warehouse while you were hyperventilating behind the curtain – and the more you thought about it, the more it became a plausible idea, and oh _God_ you couldn’t remember how many empty seats there had been out there but the only thing you recalled was that there had been _so many_ –

The stage curtains lifted and the spotlights dropped onto center stage. The announcer had already exited the stage, leaving only you, Mettaton, and the camera, which now showed it was recording by a blinking red light. Staring out into the audience, you found that, to your relief, most of the seats were empty. Only the first few rows were occupied by stagehands and other crew members. Movement by your side tore your wide eyes from the scene; Mettaton flashed you a sweet smile, before he twirled effortlessly past you and into the center of the stage.

“Well, (y/n)!” His booming voice filled the room, and though you had the suspicion you were supposed to follow him out there where everyone could see you, your feet remained firmly planted to the ground, hidden towards the back of the stage where your body could be engulfed by shadows, unable to be seen. “You’ve finally got me, haven’t you? It’s my very last stand. Time to put an end to the malfunctioning killer robot, once and for all.” You could tell by the look on his face – a playful smirk for the camera, though there was a masked expectancy in his eyes – that he was waiting for you.

You took a cautious step forward, and then another. As soon as you stepped onto the illuminated part of the stage, the spotlights fell onto you, all but blinding you with their harsh light. A guitar chord sounded somewhere in the distance, likely from a speaker behind you. Smoke began to pour from either side of you, blown towards the robot with the aid of a fan, making you repress the urge to cough. You could practically see his eyes glowing with excitement, even though he was so far from you. You closed the gap between you until you were within ten feet of him. Obeying the expectant look still in his eye, you responded, “Yes. I have to do this and defeat you – for the fate of all of humanity.” You hastily tacked the ending on when the robot raised an eyebrow at you.

You were ecstatic when your voice came out even and steady, at a volume that was likely to be picked up by the camera. Your mouth was near painfully dry, but that was something you could deal with. Really the only choice you had in your life at that moment in time was to deal with whatever was thrown at you. Mettaton seemed satisfied with your reply, a chuckle wafting on the air and drifting towards you. The guitar continued to strum out different chords over the speakers, and somehow you knew the battle was going to start soon, making your heart begin to race. “Well then darling,” the camera had swiveled so it could focus on the two of you from the side. You tried your best not to pay attention to it, and only to your opponent in front of you, who now grinned and looked as confident as you’d ever seen him: for how could a robot built with the sole purpose of entertaining be anything but?

“Come and defeat me, then.”

His challenge was met with half a second of eerie silence, before the sudden loss of the guitar was replaced with a booming bass that seemed to crawl up your legs and settle into your bones, shaking the entire room. It was a familiar tune, in fact, the same exact one he’d played down in the underground. The whole atmosphere of the stage changed with the new music; the lights turned from the harsh white to a mixture of bright blues and pinks and yellows, the fog began to dissipate, and you heard the distinct ping of the ratings monitor as it roared to life. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you took note of the numbers. It was already in the hundred thousands, higher than you’d ever seen it down in the underground due to the added human viewers as well as monsters.

Turning back to Mettaton, he had struck a quick pose under the lights and then began to dance to the thunderous beat of the music with a familiar call of, “Lights! Camera! Action!” Just like when you’d first fought him, you couldn’t help but simply stand, frozen in place, dumbfounded at the absurdity of it all, as if you couldn’t believe what you were witnessing despite the fact that you’d witnessed the exact scene a few months earlier. You heard the ping of the ratings machine as the number of viewers was likely climbing, and you realized with a sudden jolt that you had no idea how you were going to win this fight, or if you stood a chance of winning at all. Last time, you’d fought until you managed to shoot both his arms and legs off, which had coincidentally happened on the turn the ratings happened to climb past 12,000 viewers.

Would he now make you climb to 12 million, or would he fight until he lost his arms and legs, like last time?

You didn’t have time to think about an answer, for the robot had twirled towards you and thrown a fist in your direction. You momentarily panicked about being hit, until at the last moment, his hand slipped just to the right of your body, as he had said. At this close proximity to him, you thought you could see the corners of his lips turn up, as if he were fighting a smile.

Twice more, he flung an arm at you which you pretended to nimbly dodge by twisting your body just slightly – enough that the camera would see you moved, but not enough that it’d suddenly put you in the path of his hits that never had an intended target – and then, in front of his body so the camera wouldn’t see, he jerked a finger downwards. You didn’t have much time to interpret the gesture and did the first thing you could think of: dropped down into a crouch. A second later, Mettaton’s leg whizzed harmlessly overhead. His smile was exuberant as you got back to your feet. The ratings machine pinged louder in the background and you risked a glance at it. It had already broken a million.

Surprisingly, your stomach didn’t turn uneasily at the numbers as you thought it would, but instead it sent a jolt of excitement through your veins. Mettaton dipped his head to you, almost imperceptibly, leaving you to wonder if you’d just imagined the gesture, but then a moment later he kicked at you again, and having plenty of time to react, you stepped back to avoid the hit.

“Oh my, you’re a slippery little thing, aren’t you? It’s no matter. I’m still going to win.” Grinning, he raised a hand into the air and from seemingly nowhere – which was exactly how it seemed to happen the first time you’d fought – many smaller versions of Mettaton’s box form descended upon you. Whipping out your phone, you knew it was the time to retaliate. The ACT menu was glowing, and as soon as you pressed the yellow option, your soul emerged: small but sturdy, in the shape of a heart, (though inverted) and glowing yellow. With the palm of your hand, you pointed upwards; your soul followed your will and you aimed at the mini versions of Mettaton and shot at them.

You were pleased to find that your aim hadn’t worsened with time, for you were able to knock most of them out of the sky. The few that were left threw heart shaped projectiles at you, which you moved out of the way to dodge. A questioned burned in your mind as you paused for a moment, anticipating Mettaton’s next move: if you hadn’t shot down the mini Mettaton’s or jumped out of their way, would you have taken damage from that attack?

Naturally, you couldn’t ask the robot at that moment in time, so you simply steeled yourself as you dodged another onslaught of the mini bots, though this time they were accompanied by a few bombs that you avoided setting off. After finishing off the next wave of attacks, you realized you’d lost sight of the robot and spun, your breath catching in your throat to find him behind you, looming over you. He was much faster than you’d expected and a lot stealthier.

He laughed at the expression that must’ve been on your face. “Don’t look so worried, darling! It’s only time for a pop quiz!” He shoved into your hands a pen and notepad. “This one’s an essay question. What’s _your_ favorite thing about Mettaton?” He winked at you, and you stared down at the lines as you struggled for something to write. Would he want you to say the same thing as last time, or change it up a bit? The ratings machine slowed its nearly incessant dinging as the action of the show wound down, and you knew that the invisible timer was ticking. You’d have to write something for the robot, and you’d have to write it fast.

You hastily scrawled down nearly exactly what you’d put last time: _legs_.

“Time’s up!” You’d barely finished making the tail of the s when he snatched the notepad from your grasp and brought it to his face to read. His eyes scanned the word on the page, before he grinned widely. “That’s right. Legs was the correct answer! But oh…? What do we have here?” He pretended to read closely, bringing the page closer to his face as if he were struggling to read something written in tiny print. _Oh no. What the hell’s he gonna pull this time?_

Mettaton gasped, a hand flying to his mouth, which had formed a surprised _o_. Wondering what it was he had seen – if it was anything at all – you leaned in to examine the paper, but he pushed you away and hid it from your gaze. “And here! My dear audience, here, written plainly in such a lovely, small font, as if our dear (y/n) was bashful – a romantic serenade, straight from the heart! What a touching confession! I didn’t even know you felt this way about me, my darling!”

Despite the fact that you knew you hadn’t written anything of the sort on the paper, his soft gaze combined with his gentle cooing and the sudden fingers carding gently through your hair made your face burn, and you knew it must’ve been bright red under all the makeup the stylist had put on you. “M-Mettaton, I d-“ You tried your best to dismiss his claims, because even though this was a stunt that just screamed Mettaton, what with his obsession with _Drama! Romance! Bloodshed!_ , you didn’t want anyone to believe him, especially if friends like Papyrus and Sans were watching, and God forbid: Toriel.

However, he cut you off by pressing a finger to your lips. “Oh, don’t speak, (y/n)! Your written word has delved deeper into my heart than anything you’ll say could. But alas; we cannot be together, for right now, you and I are at odds with one another. How can a monster like me love my sworn enemy, what I was created to destroy? Oh fate, cruel mistress, tugging on the heartstrings of this pour naïve human soul!” He finished in an anguished yell, and you heard the distinct rapidly paced pinging of the ratings machine. The people were eating all of your apparent love for Mettaton up, unfortunately.

“Nonetheless,” Mettaton had turned directly to the camera now, and you could see him grin cheekily, while tossing the notepad over his shoulder as if it suddenly meant nothing to him. “I’ll add it to the pile.”

You suppressed a groan; you supposed, if nothing else, Mettaton had a certain fondness for drama on his shows, and being dramatic was something he was definitely an expert at. “Your essay really showed everyone your heart, didn’t it, (y/n)?” You were brought out of your thoughts by the robot’s words, the same ones he had spoken all those months ago back in the underground. You knew what was coming and you were prepared for it, your limbs tensing as the bass boomed in the background, your embarrassment all but forgotten as you faced Mettaton on the stage.

“Why don’t I show you mine?”

You became aware of the ratings machine growing louder and louder as the fight wore on, and you tensed as you anticipated your opponent’s next move. Everything he was saying to you was almost painfully familiar, an echo of the words he’d spoken underground when you’d first fought, and you could recall exactly what his next attack would be. You didn’t think it actually possible, but there was a part of you – no matter how deeply buried it was – that was having fun doing this. The robot seemed like he was enjoying it, as expected, given that it looked like he was having trouble keeping that playful smirk on his face for the camera, rather than the excited grin that threatened to overtake it.

From the place on the belt wrapped around his midsection, the large pink heart emerged – about twice the size of your own yellow heart which was now hovering idly a foot or two above your head, waiting for a command – and rose into the sky.

You were frozen in place as you watched it lift higher and higher, waited for the shower of sparks that you knew would rain down upon you any second, your breath catching in your throat as the bass continued to pound, syncing with the beat of your heart. Despite your anticipation, you couldn’t keep your focus on the heart and your eyes snapped down to the robot’s face again; his smile was expectant this time, as if he knew you couldn’t help yourself from looking at him, and his eyes were glowing with a fervent excitement – you felt it too, for your limbs were aching as your entire body resisted the urge to tremble.

Then, you did something that surprised yourself. You smiled back at him, and it wasn’t just a small, polite smile like you would give Toriel or Sans or Papyrus, but a full-blown grin that stretched across your face and made your cheeks hurt with the effort. You didn’t know how it happened, but you were honestly having fun; it was almost like the camera and the technical crew and the millions of humans and monsters weren’t there, and it was just you and Mettaton on the stage, putting on a show for no one’s enjoyment other than your own. Even though he’d fabricated a love confession just for dramatic effect, you found comedy in the fact that it was so something the robot would do.

In the middle of your strange content, a single bolt of lightning fell and you quickly moved out of its path. Seconds later, showers of sparks were upon you, cascading around your figure and brightening the already vividly illuminated stage, making the air tingle: a palpable excitement. You twisted and turned to avoid them, and for a split second you wondered if Mettaton actually had full control over each and every individual lightning bolt, making sure that they couldn’t hit you, or if it was all just you dodging out of their way – but you realized a moment later that you didn’t care, as you lifted your small yellow soul into the air by a swipe of your palm upwards, and began to fire at the pink heart suspended above the stage.

You didn’t know if this was what you were supposed to do here, but figured that since it had been what you’d done in the battle, it was the right thing to do. You knew, that after his heart had been shot enough times, his arms would fall off – but would that happen in the show, or would he safeguard it somehow? Maybe he _wanted_ that to happen, for some sort of dramatic effect? Or maybe, it wouldn’t happen at all, and he would just eventually give in and allow you to win, maybe in some sort of big plot twist at the end where he realizes that he’s loved you all along, or something like that. It seemed like something Mettaton would do.

You heard a loud boom that signaled the end of the robot’s attack, but his arms did not fall to the ground. Instead, the heart merely retreated to its place back on his belt. You were going to have to attack him once more directly to take his arms off, that is, if your previous battle was any indicator of how this battle was going to go. However, given how similar the two had been so far, you figured you were probably right.

Despite the fact that you knew your attacks had affected him, Mettaton shook them off with a laugh. “Oooh, I’m just warming up!” He called out with a teasing wink aimed directly at the camera, and you almost rolled your eyes as you heard the frantic ratings machine in the background working to keep up with the influx of positive ratings after the gesture. You took a glance at it and noted the number: 5 million. 5 million people, each with their own lives and likes and dislikes and hopes and dreams, from all around the country and possibly even the world – were tuned in to see what you would do next. It was nerve-wracking, of course, but for some reason nothing in that moment could undermine the elation you felt at performing on the stage with Mettaton.

Maybe he’d been right all along about you being a natural in front of the camera, even though every time you’d just brushed it off with a shrug.

“But how are you on the dance floor, darling?” The robot called over to you, and you tensed as your eyes flashed to the ceiling and fixed upon the disco ball that was steadily lowering over your head. You remembered this attack well; dodge the blue beams by remaining still, shoot when they were white to change them into blue. You did exactly that, and, feeling a bit cheeky, you managed to strike a few dramatic poses in between when the beams would switch; the ping of the ratings machine grew louder. The audience was eating up your confidence.

Locking eyes with Mettaton across the stage, you could see an absolutely elated smile on his face. It was definitely no secret that you were having fun now, with the way you were moving to the beat, grinning from ear-to-ear as you easily dodged his attacks, and seeing you so relaxed and carefree for once was enough for him to have fun too; you thought you could even see those hearts that recently you’d often thought you could see flash in his eyes, but you were too far away to really tell anything, other than that his eyes were bright with excitement, and whenever he spoke, his voice sounded almost as if he were struggling to keep it calm and poised, under control for the camera.

For some reason, you kind of _wanted_ him to lose control, for the both of you to just throw away any inhibitions and dance together under the spotlights, ignoring the crew and the camera and the ratings, if only for just a little while.

But you didn’t, and instead you just idly tapped your foot to the still booming bass of the music as you awaited Mettaton’s next move, even though you really already knew what it was.

“Lights! Camera! Bombs!” He cried out, and you were already prepared, your heart pointed towards the ceiling as bombs rained down upon you. You shot at them before dodging out of their path in order to avoid the subsequent explosion. The attack was easy to dodge and once it was over, you grinned at the robot in front of you, as if to dare him to send something harder your way. Another wave of attacks greeted you, which you dodged with the same ease. You’d almost forgotten that this was all for a TV show and that you weren’t actually fighting Mettaton – it was like you’d been brought back into the underground again for another battle that you had to win in order to advance onward to the capital.

You used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat that had begun to bead on your forehead. The combination of the stifling lights and the constant dodging back-and-forth across the stage was beginning to take its toll on you, but you knew you could do this for hours, if need be, fueled by your own excitement and determination alone. However, you already knew the layout of the battle; you wouldn’t have to do this for hours, for it would soon reach its climax and you would be declared the winner. You were sure that it was right around the corner, so sure, that you mouthed the robot’s next words to yourself as they came out of his mouth.

“Time for our union-regulated break!”

And so, a few seconds of the fast-paced music playing filled the warehouse. Mettaton smirked at you from his place on the other side of the stage and you heard the ping of the ratings machine grow louder and louder until it was almost loud enough to drone out the music, the sound almost a constant drone now with how high the ratings were escalating. You glanced at it to confirm that 8 million people had now tuned in to the show. That, in combination with the attack you knew was coming next, seemed to set your blood to boiling; your skin prickled and the hairs stood up on the back of your neck, almost as if you could already feel the electricity in the air.

Maybe that _was_ what you could feel, surging around and bouncing from wall-to-wall after the robot’s last attack. He was idly moving to the beat in his place as the short break wore on, and with nothing else to do and too much energy to simply stand there, unmoving, you matched his moves. He smiled as brightly as you’d ever seen him; in fact, he looked almost touched, that you were enjoying this as much as he was – and as much as he thought you would. He had been right, after all, and you knew he was going to gloat about it later, but you didn’t care about that right now. Your focus was on the one thing that mattered in that moment: Mettaton and his next attack.

“You and I have grown so distant, my darling (y/n)…” His voice sent shivers down your spine, a quiet purr that you struggled to hear over the pounding rhythm of the music. You could feel your pulse pounding too, nearly in every limb of your body, and all in time to the beat of the music that was playing over the speakers, almost so loud that it was drowning out your every thought. Your breath seemed to disappear as you willed him to continue, willed him to attack you so the battle could build to its dramatic climax – later on, you might’ve been astounded at how the fight had seemed to consume every fiber of your being and your soul, but it was almost like the music and the flashing lights and the robot’s ever-present grin had hypnotized you and pulled you in.

“How about another heart-to-heart?” Mettaton’s smile was almost dangerous, glinting under the harsh stage lights, and you realized that you’d never noticed it before, but his teeth were actually fanged, almost like a predator’s.

You didn’t know which role you felt like you were in at that moment, predator or prey, only that you knew exactly how to play the part and that you didn’t want it to end and that you almost could’ve been content with this battle raging on forever, just you and Mettaton together under the heat of the spotlights, enchanted by the sound of the music –

The bass had swelled into a crescendo of electronic synths and saxophones as again, Mettaton’s heart rose into the air. You already had your hand lifted, your little yellow soul – looking so small, but feeling as if it could encompass the entire stage – following your every move, poised to strike as soon as you saw the first bolt of lightning leave the heart. Everything else seemed to disappear in that moment but you and Mettaton as you waited, your breath coming out in short gasps, and you wondered if he knew what he was doing to you, how much you despised having to anticipate his next attack rather than face it, but all your wondering was futile, because he was _Mettaton_ and _of course_ he knew, and he was probably doing it on purpose just to assert himself in a position of power over you.

You knew, after this next attack, his arms would clatter to the ground and you would be the one in power.

The lightning fell from the heart in a blinding flash. You twisted and turned, dancing under the electric rain as you avoided being hit. You shot upwards towards his heart; you could hear the sound of your bullets connecting, but could not see it, for your vision had almost gone white with excitement. You barely heard the brass instruments over the sound of your blood pounding in your ears as it had earlier during the battle, though instead with fear, this time it was with anticipation.

You didn’t feel like yourself anymore, and that was probably because you weren’t. You felt almost as if you were another person, standing outside of your body and watching as it maneuvered nimbly across the stage and avoiding the attacks of the robot, a lithe dancer with nothing to fear. Had the music quite literally hypnotized you into someone you weren’t? Was this Mettaton’s plan all along?

Suddenly nothing felt right anymore and you became afraid. Your limbs continued to move of their own accord, and, horrified, you realized you’d lost control of your own body. It was almost in slow motion; one second, you were moving to the beat of the music and the next, you felt a foot slip out from underneath you and you crumpled to the ground but were unable to do anything to stop it. You heard the sound of your own heartbeat pounding unsteadily as you fell, suddenly out-of-sync with the beat of the music, frantic and loud.

The last thing you saw was the ratings meter – its viewers now climbing above 20 million and growing with every passing second – and Mettaton’s surprised face near to your own; the last thing you heard was the incessant drone of the machine, the saxophone dying off as the chorus of the song came to its conclusion, and a murmur of “Oh shit,” pass through the robot’s lips.

Then your head hit the stage floor and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow check it out!!! a new chapter fairly quickly after the last one was posted!!  
> this one is kinda short and hastily written (sorry) but i really wanted to just get it done since it's gonna be the foundation for much bigger things coming soon  
> hate to end it on a sort of cliffhanger (especially given how rushed that ending was) but! more is already on the way  
> as always, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up after your premiere on Mettaton's TV show to find things...not quite as expected.

Lights pierced your vision as you fought to open them. Your lids felt heavy, weighed down with sleep, and you wished you could simply just curl up in a ball and ignore the world around you to go back to bed, but there was the nagging pain of hunger in your stomach. You smelled something wonderful drifting towards you and momentarily wondered where you were, and with all of your determination, willed your eyes to open.

Your surroundings swam into a hazy focus and you found yourself staring up at the familiar ceiling of your room. You blinked a few times; the edges of your vision were still blurry, but at least you could properly see without wincing too terribly at the light that filtered in through your window. You tried to lift your head up but as soon as you moved it an inch off the pillow, a wave of nausea washed over you and groaning, you let it drop back down, defeated.

“Oh. You’re awake again.”

You heard the voice to the right of you and squinted over at the source. Flowey, perched on your windowsill as always, was staring at you with a blank expression. It sounded as if someone had stuffed a bunch of cotton in your ears. “Again?” You croaked out, voice hoarse and dry with disuse, your throat parched. You searched on your bedside table for a glass of water and were relieved when you found one and brought it to your lips. Toriel must've left it there for you when you’d wake up. “This is the first time I’ve been awake…what are you talking about?”

The flower tilted to one side slightly, as if he didn’t believe what you were saying, and then scoffed. “Only someone as stupid as you would think that. Do you even know what day it is? It’s Friday.”

You felt the fog that had settled over your brain clear a little at Flowey’s words. The last thing you remember was it being Tuesday…had you really been out for that long, or was he just lying to you? You fixed him with a hard stare. “You're kidding. It can't be Friday already. Its Wednesday, isn't it?” Again, the flower looked as if he thought you were a moron.

“Nope. Its Friday. You’ve been really loopy after all the pain meds they gave you. All you’ve really done is sleep or just stare at the ceiling for hours on end. Kind of creepy.”

Pain meds? Staring at the ceiling for hours? You certainly didn’t remember any of that, and the more you tried to, the more it made your head hurt. You forced yourself to sit up straight, nearly throwing up in the process, but when you'd finally managed to hold yourself upright in bed, you looked at the flower again. His expression wasn’t full of malice; he was probably telling the truth.

You needed to get to Toriel to find out exactly what happened to you. The last thing you remembered was that it had been a Tuesday and you had been with Mettaton…you pushed the covers off of you and after a few minutes of steadying yourself, slowly and carefully got to your feet. Unsure of your own movements, you made your way unsteadily over to your bedroom door, hugging the wall along the way. You were glad that only Flowey was there to see you, for you probably looked kind of stupid, draped across it in the way you were.

“Y’know,” the flower called to you from across the room. You had just placed a hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it and do your best to venture out into the kitchen. “I was supposed to yell whenever you get up. You're supposed to be getting rest or something like that.” He didn’t even turn away from his place on your windowsill. It must've been midday, for the sun was shining brightly outside and he was soaking up the rays with his petals. “It’s a good thing I don’t really care about that, isn't it?”

With a quiet murmur of agreement, you pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway. The sudden bright lightbulb above made your eyes burn for a moment, but after a few seconds of leaning heavily on the wall as you waited for your eyes to adjust, you began to carefully meander down the hall again. It probably took you around five minutes of shuffling your feet and pausing to fight the dizziness that threatened to overtake you, but eventually you got to the end of the hall and heard the distinct buzz of voices coming from the kitchen.

They sounded more distant than they should’ve in the fog that was still surrounding your brain. You took a few unsteady steps into the kitchen, switching your grip from the wall to the counter for support. The voices grew a little bit louder as you advanced toward them. Did Toriel have company? Normally she was at work at this time, so you were naturally confused as to why she was home, and who would be there with her. The thought of Asgore crossed your mind, for the goat monster had been talking about having a civil conversation with him again about their relationship and what had gone wrong, but the closer you got, the more you realized it wasn’t the monster king; the voice of the visitor was too high-pitched, too melodic.

You rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw two blurry shapes at the dining table: one white and one black. They didn’t notice you, not until you cleared your throat and swore lightly to yourself after accidentally stubbing your toe on the counter. When they looked up – or at least you thought they did – their faces swam into focus, filled with shock.

“(Y/n)!” You recognized Mettaton’s voice as he immediately stood from his chair and rushed over to you, grabbing onto one of your hands and holding it in his own. “You're not supposed to be out of bed! What are you doing here? Why didn’t Flowey tell us you woke up?” He cast a worried glance over at Toriel, who had risen from her own chair and had fixed you with a worried stare.

Mettaton urged you to sit in a chair at the dining table. He pulled you along too fast, for your head spun and you stumbled on your own feet and ended up half-collapsing in his arms – and God, you would definitely be embarrassed about that if you were in the right state of mind – but given that now it hurt to think things through any further than _Oh, I just fell onto Mettaton. Alright,_ you simply allowed him to half-drag you over into a chair.

“My child,” Toriel bent down over you, her large furry paws coming up to grasp your own. “I know you must be restless after being cooped up for so long, but you really shouldn’t be out of bed. Has the pain medication wore off yet?” So Flowey had been telling the truth when he'd told you about pain medication. You didn’t know if it had worn off…you still felt like you were in a fog, but at least now you could hold yourself up straight without your head throbbing. You couldn’t feel any pain.

“I dunno,” you admitted with a shrug. “I can't really…remember much about what happened…or how I got here…” Your eyes moved from Toriel, whose worried gaze had fallen onto Mettaton, to the robot himself. His expression was sheepish, and almost…guilty. You'd never seen him make a face like that before, but you were sure that was what it was. His vividly bright eyes fixed on the floor, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth…but what would he have to be guilty about?

You looked to Toriel for an explanation, but her gaze was still firmly fixed on the robot superstar. He let a heavy sigh fall from his lips and slowly sank into the chair next to yours. He looked almost as if he didn’t want to talk, which you knew was rare for him, given how much he loved the sound of his own voice, but after a few moments of silence, he finally began with a quiet, “Well…”

“It all started Tuesday afternoon. I came over here because I…well, I wanted you to guest star on my show. You know, since my ratings are failing and all, I thought a reenactment of our battle underground would bring them back. So I came over here and you…pretty much agreed to it, and went with me to the studio. Does any of this ring a bell for you, darling?” You gave a noncommittal shrug. It sounded kind of familiar to you, but you couldn’t exactly remember doing it yourself. It was almost as if maybe you'd seen someone else do it, like in a movie you'd seen a long time ago but couldn’t remember all that perfectly.

“Well, anyways…so we went to do the show and for a while, everything was going really great!” He grinned widely at you, a flash of the Mettaton you were used to, rather than the somber-faced robot that was sitting in front of you now. However, it vanished as quickly as it came and he grew uncharacteristically serious again. “You and I were having so much fun together. Even if you act like you weren't, I knew you were having fun! You were smiling like I’d never seen you smile. It was almost as if…well, as if something had awoken inside of you and come to life, you know?”

“But…well, things went a little downhill after that. One second, we were having innocent fun, dodging fake attacks and dancing around, but then things started to get a bit…intense.” Your eyes flashed to Toriel’s face to gauge her own reaction. It was nearly blank; she was staring down at Mettaton with a vacant expression as she listened to the story. “I think we both lost our control a bit, darling. I sort of…forgot to pull my punches, you know? It was almost like we were back in the underground again. I…yes, that’s all there is to it. I forgot. I'm sorry.”

“However, I think there must've been something…off, with you too. The way you looked just wasn’t right. It wasn’t you. Maybe it was the atmosphere. I don’t know for sure, but what I do know is that you were dodging and then you were slipping. It happened so fast, I didn’t really have time to react and neither did you. Luckily, you weren't hit by any of my attacks, but…well, you did hit the ground. Pretty hard, actually. Enough to give you that nasty concussion, which explains why you’ve been on pain medication.”

You blinked at his explanation. It all sounded vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t actually remember doing any of it. If you concentrated as hard as you could through the pain of your throbbing head, you could remember bright stage lights and a bass that vibrated straight into your bones…but that was about the extent of it. “Okay,” you murmured finally. “I still don’t really remember it, but…I’ll take your word for it. Just…how did I end up here and…why are you here?” The question was blunt and you knew it, and you saw the robot flinch out of the corner of your eye, for you had turned your gaze upon the goat monster, having addressed the question more to her than to the robot.

Toriel finally opened her mouth to answer. “Mettaton carried you here, my child.” She said, surprising you. Did she mean that he'd gone the distance to your house _on foot? Carrying_ you? _Mettaton?_ “With one arm, in fact, because your other one fell off shortly after (y/n) hit the ground, didn’t it?” He nodded vigorously at the comment. “Yes. He carried you back home. Oh, I was worried about you when I saw you had left without giving any word as to where you were going, of course. I wasn’t watching the broadcast, but as soon as I heard the knock at the door and saw Mettaton holding you, unconscious…well, I wasn’t very happy, to say the least.”

Mettaton piped up in a tone that was too cheery to match his words. “She took you from my and slammed the door in my face.”

The image of Toriel, seething with anger and quite literally slamming the door in Mettaton’s perfect face – and you could only imagine that the whole house must've shook from the blow, given how immensely strong the goat monster was – made you smile a bit, but you tried to remain focused on the story, for Toriel began to talk again. “I was furious, but at that moment, I could not care less about Mettaton. I took you to the nearest hospital and the doctors treated you for a concussion. You had to stay there a night so they could observe you – make sure you weren't bleeding in your brain or anything – “ The mental image sent a shudder down your spine. “But the next day they sent us home with pain medication and an order for you to get rest while you healed.”

“The effects of the pain medication combined with your concussion are probably why you don’t remember much. That, and the fact that you’ve slept so much.” She tacked this on with a well-meaning smile. “And as for…Mettaton, here…well, naturally at first I was absolutely furious with him. He knocked and knocked on the door, trying to figure out if you were okay, asking to see you…and every time, my child, I opened it only to slam it in his face again.”

“She did,” the robot broke in with a light chuckle, and you wondered how on Earth he could be taking this so easily.

Toriel broke off into a grin of her own. “But eventually…after he'd spent the whole day on the sidewalk outside the house, I noticed that the neighbors were starting to stare, so I had to let him in. The second he stepped inside, he began apologizing profusely. I could hardly understand him; he was talking so quickly!” You shot a skeptical glance at the robot. Mettaton? Apologizing? It was hard to believe, but you knew Toriel would never lie to you, so you kept your mouth shut.

“And then – you wouldn’t believe what he pulled out! A stack of your homework! He went to your college and told them you were sick and that he was there to pick up all of your coursework. At this point, even though I was still angry with him for putting you in danger, I let him see you, my child. Even though I knew that this whole debacle was his fault,” she punctuated her words with a soft pat on the robot’s shoulder. “I decided that he meant well. After all, it was just an accident, wasn’t it?”

“He’s been here ever since. Offering to feed you and keep you company and watch over you while you're awake to make sure you don’t get into any trouble…almost like he’s trying to put me out of work.” She laughed and Mettaton joined in with her. You felt like you were missing the joke; since when did the two ever get along, and why should they now, especially when Toriel had just said that she’d been upset with him for putting you in harm’s way?

“But since he was going to be staying here, I put him to work. I had him help me with cooking and cleaning. When he isn't constantly talking, he’s quite a helpful hand, you know.” Again, the two shared a laugh and you felt like you'd been asleep for years and had missed something. Mettaton, allowing himself to be made fun of? Toriel, seeing past the robot’s arrogant and self-centered ways? “I’ve even taught him how to bake a bit. He’s a natural.” As her eyes fell upon him, you could even detect fondness within their depths. God, you weren't sure now if this whole situation was real or just a weird delusion brought on by the pain medication you’d been supposedly taking.

“I try my best,” the robot chimed in with, his eyes just as affectionate as they locked with Toriel’s, almost as if the two were old friends. Just weeks ago, the goat monster had been warning you to be careful around Mettaton, and here she was allowing him to take care of you. Just how much had they bonded while you'd been asleep in your room? “Tori even taught me how to make butterscotch-cinnamon pie. It’s in the oven now. Can you smell it? You must be really hungry! (Y/n) can eat something solid now, can't they?”

_Tori_. You internally cringed at the nickname; only her closest friends called her that. She wouldn’t even let Asgore, her ex-husband who she had once affectionately addressed as _Fluffybuns_ call her that anymore. However, you stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Given that you'd been asleep for the past few days, you weren't sure as to when the last time you had something to eat was. Now that your attention had been drawn to it, you could detect the familiar, heavenly smell of Toriel’s famous pie baking in the oven. The thought that Mettaton had made it was a little amusing to you, but you were willing to try it. After all, you were practically salivating at just the smell.

Toriel seemed unsure for a moment, but at your desperately hungry look, she gave a sigh. “I suppose they can, but I’d like for them to go back to their room. The doctor said you shouldn’t be up and moving around until you're fully healed, (y/n).” She chided you as a mother would and it made your heart swell with warmth, and it even made you feel a little ashamed that you'd gotten out of bed in the first place.

You rose to your feet slowly, still a little unsteady. The time you'd spent listening to their stories and sitting upright had helped to clear your head a lot, but you still weren't used to walking around as much yet. You wanted to walk yourself to your own bedroom, but Mettaton insisted that he help you, and linked a long, skinny arm with your own and began to walk you down the hallway, promising Toriel that he'd be back in time to take the pie out of the oven.

With an uncharacteristic gentleness, he led you into your room and helped you into bed, tucking you into the covers. Flowey stayed silent on your windowsill and having glanced around the room again – this time more aware – you happened to notice the pile of papers and books on top of your bedside table, next to the glass of water you'd reached for earlier. “You really went and got my homework for me?” You asked him in a teasing tone. The image of Mettaton going to each of your professors amused you a little bit; especially when you thought about the surprised look that must've been on their faces.

“Of course,” he answered you gently, finishing tucking you into the bed with a final pat of the covers. His smile was genuine; maybe he really did feel bad about what had happened during your televised battle, and this was his way of trying to make up for it.

“Hey, uh…about our battle…what exactly happened to your TV show? The ratings…I remember, they were really high, weren't they? Are more people watching now?” You knew how much his television shows meant to him. After all, the only reason you'd gotten dragged into the mess was because he wanted to try and recapture the high ratings he'd had in the underground, and he'd thought that a battle between the two of you reminiscent of the one you'd fought down below would bring them back.

“Ah, well…the others are pretty much the same. Not terrible, but not good either.” He shrugged. “As for the show we were on, well…” He trailed off with a nervous chuckle. “Cancelled.”

You were about to open your mouth and ask why when he seemed to read your thoughts and answered. “Before you ask, it was because some television company deemed the show unsafe, since you…got hurt and all. You humans are a lot more restricting than monsters are,” he huffed, seemingly agitated for a moment before he continued. “It was also on a family network, and they didn’t like the bit of, ah, choice language I used towards the end there…I apologize for that, by the way. Very unbecoming of me, I know.”

You scoffed. As if the language would bother you. You would've been surprised for Mettaton to say anything further than “damn” or “hell”, since they seemed to be the only swears he ever used and he rarely ever used them, but offended? “Even if the network got all upset about you swearing, I don’t really care,” you assured him. “And I'm sorry about your show and how…this whole thing sort of backfired into getting it cancelled instead of saving it.”

“Oh, it isn't your fault, darling. It was an accident. Besides, the show was probably just going to get cancelled on its own anyway.” The robot shrugged, but he offered you a sincere smile. Just then, you heard Toriel calling down the hallway that the pie was done. “Oh, I’ll be right back. I hope you're hungry!” He patted you on the head and turned to leave, before Flowey told him that he was hungry too, so Mettaton picked up the flower and took him with him.

After a few minutes of waiting silently by yourself, the robot reentered your room, balancing a plate with a big slice of pie on it on one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He set the milk down on your bedside table before sitting next to you on the bed, smiling over at you as he sliced off a small chunk with a fork. “Butterscotch-cinnamon pie,” he told you proudly. “Made by yours truly! With a little help from Toriel, of course.” He winked at you, before moving to press the pie-covered fork against your lips.

“Do it gently this time,” you warned him, turning your head to one side so he couldn’t simply shove it into your mouth the second you tried to speak. “Last time I let you feed me you came close to choking me.” You were referring to a few weeks ago when you'd gone to his apartment to help him come up with ideas for his TV shows and he'd made you a dismal meal of macaroni and cheese – which led you to wonder how the robot ever managed to host a cooking show – which he had promptly and excitedly shoved down your throat.

“Don’t worry! I won't!” He reassured you in an upbeat tone. You were still weary of his approaching hand, but opened your mouth anyways. Gently, he slid the fork in your mouth and allowed you to take the food from it. As soon as the flavor hit your tongue, you let out a languid sigh. Even though it wasn’t made by Toriel, your favorite pie still managed to make your taste buds sing. As far as defects went, it was a little too sweet, and the crust on the bottom was burnt, but it was still as delicious as you'd ever tasted it – especially considering it was apparently your first solid food in a couple of days – and it reminded you of when you were down in the underground.

Mettaton was watching your face for a reaction, an expectant look in his eye. After chewing through the food and swallowing it, you grinned and sent him a thumbs up. “Tastes great, Mettaton. Definitely better than that mac and cheese you force fed me a while ago.” You laughed, and he laughed along with you despite the fact that you’d blatantly made fun of him. It was strange, as if he’d changed a bit since you’d been asleep. Maybe he did really feel bad about what he’d done.

“You seem different, Mettaton.” You stopped laughing long enough to voice your thoughts, and almost immediately, the robot was silenced himself. Before he could ask you how, you continued to speak. “I mean…taking all that bashing from Toriel about being the reason I got hurt? Laughing when talking about the fact that she slammed the door in your face and laughing along with me when I make fun of you? And…since when have you and Toriel been friends? No offence, but Toriel’s always found you to be…kind of egotistical and self-centered.”

Surprisingly, the robot didn’t seem to be the slightest bit offended. “Yes…I know Toriel has never been very fond of me, but…I suppose you could say these past few days have brought us closer?” The robot chuckled, but you just continued to stare at him, perplexed. He sighed. “The two of us…we were worried, (y/n). To see our strong, brave, determined little human, the one that had smiled their way out of the underground, never hurting a single monster lying asleep in a bed, not knowing whether or not you were going to be okay…Well, it was a little nerve-wracking, to be honest.”

“Toriel and I were both worried about you, and I suppose that’s what brought us together. We discovered that we share similarities, however few they may be. We both wanted to help you, and…we both care about you.” He offered you a soft, sincere smile, before pausing to feed you another bite of pie. “And maybe this whole ordeal has…humbled me a little, you could say. It was my fault for dragging you into such a dangerous situation, and had I not insisted you be on my show, then you wouldn’t have gotten at hurt. I feel kind of bad about this whole situation, which is a new feeling for me. I don’t like it very much.”

You laughed. He didn’t laugh along with you, but you didn’t mind. Mettaton feeling bad? The two words didn’t belong together in your opinion, and you probably never would've come up with the phrase if the robot hadn't told you it himself. “Sorry,” you told him, pausing for a moment as you took a sip of milk. “It’s just…you? Feel bad? Seems like it’s almost beneath you to feel such petty, base emotions like empathy and sympathy.”

“Oh, haha.” Mettaton laughed sarcastically, but you could still see the smile on his face as he lifted the fork to your lips to have you take another bite. “I get it, I’m supposed to be an egocentric self-absorbed movie star, but I still have people I care about, you know. And you’re one of them.” He affectionately reached out with a gloved hand to pat you on your head. “Anyways…I’m glad you’re awake and feeling better, (y/n). I know Toriel especially has been very worried about you, and that she has to be feeling ecstatic now. I think even Flowey was missing arguing with you, though I doubt he’d ever admit it.”

You couldn’t stop your chuckle at that. “Even Flowey, really?” You questioned, and Mettaton nodded vigorously, offering you another bite of the pie. You chewed thoughtfully, again sighing as the flavors melted on your tongue. You were feeling better already, just by eating it. “What about…everyone else? Have they come to visit at all?”

Mettaton passed you the glass of milk again, encouraging you to drink. “Ah, they’ve sent their condolences. Unfortunately, Papyrus and Sans have been very busy helping to run the school in Toriel’s absence. They haven't had much time to stop over, other than to share a few words with Toriel before heading home. Undyne and Alphys have also been busy with work…but the king did stop over not too long ago. He brought you those.”

The robot pointed to your desk, which was shoved off to one side of your room. Resting atop it was a vase filled to the brim with golden flowers. You were startled; how hadn't you noticed it before?! “Toriel wanted to throw them out, of course.” He chuckled. “She barely even let him in to pay a visit to you. I had to convince her that a few moments weren't going to hurt. She really has a grudge against Asgore, doesn’t she? It makes me kind of glad now to know that we've worked out our differences…”

“But I think Toriel was talking about having a nice dinner with everyone over when you were feeling better again, so we’ll probably be doing that soon. I’m sure they’ll all be happy to know you’re doing better.” He beamed at you, and scooped up the last bite of pie onto the fork and gently fed it to you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the silence for a few moments as you ate. You then picked up the glass of milk and finished it as well.

“That sounds great. Thanks, Mettaton, for helping out with me...again, I’m really sorry about your show. Maybe I can help you out with some other ones, if you’d like?”

Mettaton merely waved you off, taking both the empty plate and glass, rising to his feet. “It’s better if you just rest for now, (y/n). You’ve got a lot of work to be done,” he nodded over at the stack of school work sitting on your bedside table, and you almost groaned. You’d nearly forgotten about it. “And I don’t want to repeat this incident anytime soon. I guess I’ll just have to…see what happens, you know?”

He tilted his head over at you, an understanding smile on his face, but you thought you could detect a glimmer of something in his eyes, whether it be anticipation, or nerves, or fear you did not know, for he turned too quickly for you to really study it. “Anyways,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m going to take these dirty dishes to the kitchen. You should probably get some more rest. I know you’ve been sleeping for a while, but you’re going to need all the energy you can get if everyone’s going to come over pretty soon. You know how they all can be.”

He turned momentarily to flash a smile over his shoulder, before leaving your room, shutting the light off and closing the door behind him.

At least you had something other than that stack of homework next to you to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (posting this really quick before i have to leave for work aaaaa)  
> hey everybody how have you all been  
> so yes, it's been a while since i've last updated, probably due to the fact that my interests have been bouncing around like crazy? like i got into this webcomic called cucumber quest, then into osomatsu-san, then like, back into hetalia, then back into harry potter, then back into osomatsu-san again...  
> basically it's been kinda hectic!  
> despite how infrequent updates have been on this (and how infrequent they may be in the future) i'm determined to finish it, whenever the end may be. i'll continue writing for it, though i can't promise how often the updates will be, which is why i'm putting this on a semi-hiatus. not like, a full hiatus, but a semi one, since there will still be updates, but they won't be regular by any means.  
> anyways, i hope to write more now that i'm out of school (and i have a high school diploma now how crazy is THAT) but of course i can't make any promises, since inspiration for this just comes and goes.  
> anyways thanks for sticking with this lengthy author's note and thanks even more for sticking with this story! you're all great!!


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